


Saved

by KaterinaLuciano



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Past Abuse, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaterinaLuciano/pseuds/KaterinaLuciano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and the Amis buy slaves to set them free. He buys Éponine  and Grantaire. Enjolras and Éponine start a complicated relationship, while Grantaire experiences new emotions. The Amis rebel against the tyrant ruling France. Éponine is 17 in this, don't read if that bothers you.</p><p>“I don’t need saving. I am a slave, I’m worthless. In the eyes of the law I am property. I care for Grantaire, which is all I’m worth. I can take his punishments for him. He is so much better than I am,” she whispered the last bit, almost to herself.<br/>“Why?” Enjolras’ voice was strangled.<br/>“He’s not a whore. He is a worker, a good clean worker. He is obedient, I’m a backchatty little bitch, even you said so.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> This contains mentions of abuse. :(  
> Hope you like the story, though :D

Monsieur Enjolras was standing slightly behind the mass of people at the auction. He was deathly silent while everyone around him chatted cheerfully. A man in a suit called everyone to silence so that the auction could begin. The first slave up for auction was a young man – emaciated and full of scars. He was completely naked, except for his shackles, so that a potential buyer could look at everything he has to offer. He was staring at his feet with a look of resignation.  
“Twenty Euros for this slave! Twenty-one years of age, no defects!”  
Enjolras put up his little paddle.  
“Going… no other takers? Going… sold to 112! You may collect your purchase at the back, Monsieur,” the auctioneer cheerfully said. The slave was pulled back behind the curtains.  
Enjolras only had fifty Euros to begin with. It was rare to find a slave so cheap and he didn’t think he would be able to buy another with only thirty Euros, but greater miracles have happened.  
“A young lady for twenty Euros! Seventeen years of age, no defects!”  
Enjolras looked up sharply. Young girls were never less than a hundred Euros, except if they were very ugly or had some mental or physical defect. This girl stood tall. She wasn’t as thin as most slaves. She also didn’t have a hint of submission in her demeanour. Her long brown hair was matted and her face pale, but her eyes shone with righteous anger.  
Enjolras put up his paddle again.  
A man two meters away from him also put up his paddle.  
“Twenty-five!”  
Enjolras put up his paddle again.  
“Thirty!”  
The other man shrugged and turned to look at Enjolras.  
“She is pretty, but look at that stare she’s giving you. Might be harder to train the bitch than what her pretty face is worth. You’ll probably have to ruin the face, actually. You can have her.”  
The man turned back around before he could notice the vein throbbing on Enjolras’ forehead, indicating his anger.  
“Sold for thirty Euros!”  
Enjolras couldn’t buy anymore slaves, so he headed to the collection area instead of watching all the slaves he couldn’t buy.  
A man with a whip was standing watch over the two slaves he had bought. The girl was staring at him with contempt. When she turned her stare to Enjolras, he saw the angry red finger marks on her face.  
“Did you hit her?” he demanded.  
“Yeah, can you believe she tried to hold this one here?” he aimed a kick at the male slave’s shin. He took it without wincing.  
“You don’t touch a bourgeoisie’s property,” Enjolras said, his voice dripping with loathing. He held out the fifty Euros.  
“Which one’s yours?” the man asked, looking slightly put out.  
“Both.”  
“You might want to rethink that decision. I know they’re cheap, but the slut has a mouth on her. We almost cut her tongue out yesterday, but the guy selling her to us said that no one wanted a whore who couldn’t use her tongue.” The man leered at the girl.  
“Take my money and give me my slaves,” Enjolras was becoming more angry and disgusted by the second.  
“Whatever, you say, Monsieur.”  
The man took the fifty Euro note and handed Enjolras the keys to their shackles.  
“You’ll want to lock them up before you take those off, she’ll be a runner.”  
Without a word to the man Enjolras picked up the handles connected to the two slaves’ shackles and left with them in tow. They followed him in silence to his car. Enjolras opened the door of the backseat for them. The climbed in silently. Enjolras seated himself in the passenger seat and locked the doors from the front.  
He started the car and started driving. He took a deep breath and spoke.  
“Please don’t do anything stupid like trying to jump out of car at a traffic light. I assume you know what they do to runaway slaves.”  
In his rear view mirror he could see the girl rolling her eyes.  
“What are your names?” he asked, trying and failing to sound more cheerful.  
“You can call us what you like, Master,” the girl answered sneeringly.  
“I would like to know your names, please.”  
“I am Éponine and this is Grantaire,” she said.  
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Enjolras, the son of the man who built the Enjolras liquor empire. My father doesn’t particularly like me, but I’m the only heir he has, so he put me up in a mansion of my own after I finished my studies. I studied law and now do all the contracts for my father’s company. I may sound like the spoilt brat who gets exactly what I want in life, but that isn’t strictly true.” He pushed a button on a remote and they drove into the long driveway of what was previously the Enjolras summer home, but now the young Enjolras’ permanent residence.  
“This is where I live. I am going to let you out and then I want to speak with you in the living room, please.”  
Enjolras climbed out of the car and opened the back door of the car. Éponine and Grantaire clumsily fell out of the car, the shackles prevented normal movement. Enjolras led them to the front door and locked it behind him once they were inside. He motioned them to sit in the living room. Éponine sat and Grantaire fell down on the furniture. Enjolras disappeared up the stairs.  
“R?” Éponine hissed at her fellow slave. “R, are you okay?”  
“I haven’t been fed or watered in days, I’m going to pass out soon,” he rasped.  
“I know. Those slave traders don’t give a fuck about us. I promise I’ll find a way to get us out, R,” she whispered and pulled his torso upright and into an awkward hug.  
“You’ll only get us killed,” was the last Grantaire mumbled before he lost consciousness.  
Enjolras appeared at the foot of the stairs with a pile of clothing.  
“What happened?” he immediately asked and came to kneel at Grantaire’s feet.  
“We haven’t been allowed food or water for days; he’s passed out from dehydration.” Éponine looked at Enjolras as if he was a particularly nasty insect.  
“Oh God, I’m sorry, I’ll go get some food and water. I brought down some clothes to wear, it’s ridiculous that they strip you like animals.” Enjolras rushed away again.  
“In the eyes of the law we are animals,” Éponine said loud enough for Enjolras to hear, but mostly to remind herself.  
Enjolras filled two glasses with water and brought it to Éponine and Grantaire. She was still cradling his head in her lap.  
“I’ll bring food now; get him to drink, please.”  
Éponine gave him a puzzled look but busied herself with getting Grantaire conscious and having him drink.  
Enjolras, meanwhile, was cursing himself for being too absent-minded to buy food often enough. He found a packet of bread that had turned blue and put it in the bin. He spotted a brown paper bag with half a baguette still in it and put that on a platter. He opened his fridge and took out a piece of camembert. He placed it on the platter as well. He put a tub of butter on the platter, along with three apples and carried it to his slaves.  
Grantaire was sitting up, holding an empty glass in his hands. Enjolras put the platter down.  
“May I fetch you more water?” he asked Grantaire.  
Grantaire looked at him in terror.  
“Master should not wait on a slave…”  
Enjolras cut him off. He took the empty glass from his shaking hands and also picked up Éponine’s from the table.  
“Eat.”  
When he came back with refilled glasses Éponine was bickering with Grantaire.  
“What’s this now?” he asked, setting down the glasses.  
“Please tell R he should eat, this isn’t a trap.”  
Éponine’s voice was strong, so unlike anything he had heard from a slave.  
“R? Is that your nickname, Grantaire? She’s right, you should eat. You look malnourished. I’m sorry the baguette is a bit stale, I’m a bit forgetful with food.”  
Grantaire tentatively broke off a piece of baguette and placed it in his mouth.  
“But some butter or cheese on it, it can’t be nice just like that,” Enjolras prompted.  
“Everything tastes good when you aren’t used to being fed more than rotten table scraps,” Éponine said pointedly.  
“You should eat too.”  
Éponine cut a slice of camembert and placed it on a piece of baguette. When she took a bite her eyes closed momentarily in pleasure at her first bite to eat in two days.  
“And please put on some clothes, it can’t be comfortable naked. I obviously don’t have clothes ready for you at this moment, but my things should fit you… sort of.”  
Éponine handed Grantaire a blue T-shirt and jeans and a pair of cotton boxers. She gave him a stern look and he put on the clothes, shooting nervous looks at Enjolras. Éponine pulled a T-shirt over her head. She was so small it fit her like a dress.  
“Master, this slave feels very improper for wearing Master’s clothes. This slave doesn’t want to be bad; it is fine for it to be naked.”  
Enjolras seated himself across the two slaves.  
“Okay, here’s the catch. I’m a rich boy with a law degree and a job in the family firm. But, I like to think of myself as a half-decent person with a moral code. Slavery is abhorrent to me. I buy slaves and, with the help of a group of friends, get them fake IDs and send them to Germany, where this heinous system of people owning people doesn’t exist. I have done this successfully for the past six years, since I moved out of my parents’ home when I was eighteen and started an abolitionist society. We, Le Ami’s de l’ABC are trying to fight the laws on slavery, but until there is mass revolution in the general population, the best we can do is help individual slaves. My parents don’t know about any of this. I sent ten former slaves on their way last night with Combeferre, my right hand man. The successfully crossed the border and are now free citizens of Germany. We gave them each a list of people they can contact to help them find a place to stay and work. That is what I want to do for you when you are ready and we have an opportunity. Is that something you would like?”  
Enjolras finished his speech and looked up for the first time.  
Grantaire looked as if he was about to vomit.  
Éponine’s gaze was pure hatred.  
“I know we’re your property and you can beat me, whip me, fuck me, whatever, for saying this, but don’t mock us. Don’t spin us this web of lies and trick us into thinking we’re going to escape, only to lure us into some den of inequity,” she spat.  
“I’m not going to beat, whip, or… fuck you. I will never do that to another person. I know you don’t trust me now, but I do hope to prove myself to you in the time you are here,” Enjolras said, more calmly than he felt.  
Grantaire let out a soft moan and clamped his hand over his mouth.  
“I’m sorry, Master…” he began.  
“Don’t apologise for things that don’t need apology and don’t call me Master, call me Enjolras.”  
Grantaire started shaking his head furiously.  
“Only so you can beat us for disrespect?” Éponine chimed in.  
“Don’t you think if I was going to punish you for disrespect, I would have done so when you started with your backtalk?” Enjolras demanded irately. “Any slave owner who wanted an actual slave would have whipped some submission into you just for those looks you gave me when I bought you. I’m not stupid; I can see you hate me. Or hate the person you think I am. I am just asking you for a chance to show you I’m not a monster.” Enjolras’ vein was throbbing again.  
Grantaire was slowly slouching.  
“Eat,” Enjolras ordered with the dominant voice of his privileged childhood.  
Éponine sprang into action and helped Grantaire to eat while Enjolras watched. He willed his heart rate to come down. Éponine’s looks of disgust made him angry and he didn’t know why or how to deal with it. He had never encountered such a strong-willed slave. Submission was beaten into them or they were killed. How had this woman slipped through the cracks of the cruel system?  
He was pulled from his ponderings by Éponine asking him if Grantaire could rest somewhere, to Grantaire’s immediate protests that he is a hard-working slave who can be good.  
“How rude of me, let me show you your rooms,” Enjolras said and stood up.  
“Grantaire, can you walk?”  
“Yes, Master, this slave can do anything its Master would like it to…” Grantaire jumped to his feet, but immediately fell. Enjolras caught him in his strong arms.  
“I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He gathered the thin man in his arms and started up the stairs. He didn’t have to tell Éponine to follow.  
At the top of the stairs he turned to a room on the left side of the hall. The room was spacious and light flooded the room from the large bay windows. The four-poster bed that was obviously antique was covered in a light blue duvet to match the chaise lounge. Éponine could see the en suite bathroom. Enjolras laid Grantaire down on the bed. Grantaire tried to protest weakly, but Enjolras placed a finger to his lips.  
“Just sleep. Your bathroom is right across the room. Call me if you need anything. If you wake up hungry or thirsty and you feel up to walking downstairs alone, feel free to get yourself some food. Now just rest.”  
Grantaire’s tired eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep almost instantly.  
Éponine looked at him sceptically. Enjolras motioned for her to leave the room and he pulled the door half-closed behind them.  
“You’re room is here,” he said, entering the room just across from Grantaire’s.  
This room was darker. The four-poster was made of ebony and the duvet, as well as the sofa was blood red.  
“Is this the room where you tie me up and fuck me bloody every night?” Éponine asked coldly.  
“This was my childhood bedroom, actually. And no, I meant it when I said I wouldn’t engage in sexual interaction with you. And don’t use such filthy language,” he said sternly.  
“Ooh, I have a filthy mouth; you need to smack it for me.”  
Éponine’s voice dripped with sarcasm.  
“Éponine, I know you probably have a lot to be bitter about in life, but is it too much to ask that you don’t take it out on me?” Enjolras asked exasperatedly.  
“I’m deeply sorry for my insolence, Master, you should punish me.”  
Now she was walking toward him with fire burning in her eyes.  
“I’m not going to punish you… ever. I don’t do that. I don’t believe in slavery. I don’t believe one person can own another. So, I would appreciate it if you could stop acting like a child about this.” Enjolras grimaced at her. “Do you want to rest as well?”  
“‘Ain’t no rest for the wicked.’ Am I quoting that right?” Éponine smirked and jumped up onto the bed.  
“It’s actually ‘there is no peace for the wicked’, but I’m surprised you know a Bible verse.”  
“Why? Do you assume because I am a slave I’m stupid?”  
“No, but in my experience, the stupidest people often like quoting the Bible much more than intelligent people. ‘But the wicked are like the tossing sea, which cannot rest, whose waves cast up mire and mud. “There is no peace,” says my God, “for the wicked.”’ My mother loved mentioning that to me, when I asked her how come God allows some people to own other people. She said that they were being punished for some ancient wrongdoing. But, then again, she was always drunk.”  
Enjolras walked closer to the bed, where Éponine was sitting cross-legged, completely exposing herself.  
“Tell me how you came to be a slave,” he asked, trying not to look at her spread legs.  
She fixed him with a hard look and then began.  
“My parents used to own an inn in a quaint little town. We were fairly rich. My parents are criminals, my sister was dragged into their mess, I assume. I have no idea what happened to my baby brother. He’s either a slave or dead in a gutter, or being bent over a bed in some brothel. I was sold to pay off my father’s gambling debts. Sold to an old man, bourgeoisie, had a massive estate. He was, like… seventy five when I arrived there when I was eight. Back then I used to work in the kitchen mostly, scrub a few floors. I was under the service of the cook, Ailain. He was a middle-aged man, a good man, with a bit of a temper. He was a fabulous cook. He used to be a cordon blue chef, but he killed his wife’s lover and was sent to prison and sold as a slave to combat prison over-crowding. He ended up there. I think he saw me as a daughter. He would give me treats when he could, like madeleines. God, they were delicious. He always made sure I was fed just enough, I never really went hungry. I had it about as good as a slave can have it. There was another boy, Grantaire,” at the mention of his name she smiled the saddest smile Enjolras had ever seen, “who was four years older than me. I met him when he was picking apples in the orchard. I think I had to feed chickens or some shit, I can’t even remember that part. We started talking. Then the grounds-keeper, slave-driver, I don’t know what he was, found us talking. And he whipped us and it was… excruciating. I had never felt pain like that. Grantaire took it much better than I did. He was obviously used to it at, like, twelve, thirteen. I ran back to Ailain. He held me, gave me something for the pain and bandaged my cuts up. When my back was healed he was all stern and told me he was very disappointed in me, he doesn’t want to see me endanger myself like that.”  
Éponine laughed, it was sad laughter for times gone by.  
“He gave me a few firm smacks and sent me on my way after a hug and a kiss on the forehead. He was a good man, even if he was a strict kitchen master. I mean, he had to be if he didn’t want to be punished. Slavery is a nasty thing. When I was young, like eight to twelve, and I did something bad like break a cup or take a bite of a piece of cheese, Ailain was my direct superior and he would have to punish me. He had a soft heart, especially where it concerned me. Not that anyone would have ever guessed with the show he put on. Grabbed my by the ear and took me somewhere where we were alone and tell me to lift up my skirt and bend over. When it was a small wrongdoing, he would just smack me with his hand. He hit hard enough to hurt, but not anywhere near a normal slave’s punishment. Then he’d make me kneel in the corner for a few minutes. And then I’d have to go wash dishes again. And if it was something really bad, like stealing, oh God, he hated me to steal. But, I mean, it’s genetic for me, my parents are like the biggest thieves in France. He’d grab a wooden spoon and beat me, but not cruelly, not like a slave is beaten, more like a child is beaten. So, in a way that made me feel better, made me feel like there was finally someone who cared.”  
Éponine was absent-mindedly drawing circles on her right knee. It was like she was recounting her life story to herself and not her new master.  
“If he had to punish me for something he thought didn’t require punishment, like the ritual beatings on our birthday, he would smack me until I was sore enough to look uncomfortable, but then smack his own hand or leg to make everyone believe he was really giving it to me hard. He would tell me to yelp and maybe throw an extra good one in for realism. But then, when I turned twelve and grew these,” she lewdly groped her breasts, “the punishment became a bit awkward, because he had to excuse himself to the bathroom for ten minutes afterwards to get rid of his hard-on. So my punishment was deferred to Madame Devereaux. Old maid, I think she might have been Master’s nanny or something, she was so old. Wrinkled and gross and I didn’t like that scary bitch one bit. So the first time I did something bad again, like probably steal a carrot or something, Ailain told me ‘oh, Éponine, I’m terribly sorry, but this behaviour can’t be tolerated’ and I said ‘I am deeply sorry for my actions, I’ll bring you the spoon’. A slave doesn’t argue when it is told it is to be punished, to take punishment is like its primary function. And then he said I must go to Madame Devereaux and tell her what I’ve done. I was scared then. The old bat had given me some nasty smacks when I was working in the main house, cleaning wrong. I went to her: I didn’t want to disobey Ailain. She had a cane and she hit until she drew blood, unlike Ailain, who only left a few bruises, if I was bad. After that first time with Madame I started becoming much more secretive, so really the punishment wasn’t doing much good. Grantaire was sixteen now, smarter. We started meeting up. I’d steal some paper and a pen and he’d draw me. It was weird, to pose there like some bourgeoisie girl. I felt pretty. After two years of that, when I turned fourteen, which were relatively good years, despite Madame, two female slaves were sold. They were special slaves, I barely ever saw them. They had proper rooms, like this one, while we were all stuck in the attic. They were just sold. They were about 35 at the time. And I moved up in the hierarchy to take their place. A big leap from scullery maid to whore.”  
Enjolras locked eyes with her. Her gaze was stone-cold.  
“That’s when the trouble began. Master was… depraved. I learned the true meaning of pain from him. He showed me to my new room and told me to bend over the bed, because I’ve been a bad girl. I assumed he knew about the pens and paper and loafing about on Sunday mornings with Grantaire. I thought he was going to hit me. He lifted up my skirt and pulled down my underwear, which was new, normally I just had a white cotton dress to wear. It was just like Ailain and Madame did when they wanted to punish me. I knew I could take a beating from a geriatric. But then he unzipped his pants and fucked me. I was sufficiently startled. I had never been fucked and it hurt and I bled. My new white dress was covered in blood when he was finally done with me after about an hour. I was so confused at first and it happened every day after that. I didn’t have as many chores anymore, because I was special. But it only got worse and worse. He liked causing me pain. He chocked me with his cock, liked to strangle me until I passed out, he used clothes pegs in ways you can’t imagine. But I made it through.”  
Éponine’s face was pale.  
“And then he died a week ago of a heart attack. I was glad, but also scared. What if his bourgeoisie son sold me to a brothel? We were all taken away to the auction house two days ago and it was pretty bad there. One man tried to rape me and I attacked him. I cursed them all while Grantaire watched in horrified silence. They tried to cut my tongue out. Thankfully, Master’s son told them not to. I was already worth too little. ‘What man wants to buy a whore who can’t use her tongue?’ And then you bought me. Which I am thankful for, I think. Except if you are going to train me up to sell me to a brothel, then I’m not thankful at all, because then you’re just delaying the inevitable. I thank you for the food and water, for this shirt. I thank you for not having beaten me yet. I look forward to seeing the real you.”  
Éponine looked at him, as calm as still water.  
“The real me?” Enjolras asks with a sceptically raised eyebrow.  
“The slave owner, Master Enjolras. Not this act, this façade of caring. I don’t know why, we’re slaves, we have no power and you have all of it.”  
“This isn’t an act! I can’t understand why you can’t just believe me! What have I done to give you a reason to distrust me?” Enjolras exclaimed.  
“Bought me,” she stated simply.  
“I bought you to save you,” he said through gritted teeth.  
“I don’t need saving. I am a slave, I’m worthless. In the eyes of the law I am property. I care for Grantaire, which is all I’m worth. I can take his punishments for him. He is so much better than I am,” she whispered the last bit, almost to herself.  
“Why?” Enjolras’ voice was strangled.  
“He’s not a whore. He is a worker, a good clean worker. He is obedient, I’m a backchatty little bitch, even you said so.”  
“I never called you a bitch,” he said fiercely.  
“Oh, I’m sorry you find my filthy language so disrespectful,” she sneered.  
“Why are you like this?” he ran his hand through his curly blond hair. “If you don’t trust that I’m not going to beat you, why do you provoke me so?”  
“Call me a masochist, but I like to push people. Maybe it’s in my blood. I’m going to push you until you break and I see what you are hiding under that exterior. It doesn’t fool me; I’ve been playing people my whole life. Don’t think you will ever know me, just because you know how I got here.” Her voice dripped with contempt.  
“I don’t know if you get off on luring girls into your lair by telling them those stories of righteousness, I don’t know what the fuck’s going on in that blond head. All I know is that I just want to know how this is going to work, what you want from me, what you want from Grantaire.”  
“I want nothing but to set you free,” Enjolras said, his wide blue eyes teary.  
Éponine jumped up from the bed and walked to the chest of drawers.  
“What if I knock this over?” she pointed to a vase filled with Saint Joseph’s lilies. She nudged the vase over and everything spilled onto the wooden floorboards.  
“Then it spills, as you can see.” Enjolras’ face was tight.  
“What are you going to do to me?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Aren’t you mad?”  
“It’s water and flowers. It’s not a big deal.”  
“Really? And if I did this?” she spits at his feet.  
A muscle in his cheek twitched.  
“I would say you are being unnecessarily disrespectful. I would politely request you to refrain from doing that.”  
“What if I just keep on going though? What then?”  
“Don’t,” he says through gritted teeth.  
The small dark woman shoves against his chest.  
“I said, don’t,” his hands are bunched in fists at his sides.  
“Or what? Are you getting angry?”  
“Yes.”  
“So what are you going to do? Are you going to beat me? Are you going to fuck me?”  
“No.”  
“You sound so unsure now, all of a sudden. Is this what gets you going? The fight?” Her face was right underneath his chin now.  
“Stop, I beg of you.”  
He closed his eyes, as if he could hide from her.  
“I’m not going to stop until I know what you are.”  
“I am just a man who, in my own small way, wants to fight against the injustice of this country.”  
“Bullshit!” she pushes him again.  
“STOP!” he roars and grabs her by her upper arms.  
Her arms feel so thin, his fingers can almost wrap completely around. He could feel the muscle under the olive skin, he can feel she must have done a lot of physical work. Then the realisation hit him that she was so much smaller than he was. He was 1.83 meters tall and the top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. Her gaze was fierce, yet he thought he saw a glimpse of fear.  
“Master, please, I will take her away, I can make her see reason…”  
Grantaire was on his knees in the doorway, pleading with him.  
He let Éponine go.  
“I apologise for my rash behaviour.”  
With those words he was gone.  
There was a moment of tense silence between the two slaves before Grantaire was scolding Éponine in a barely contained whisper.  
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, ‘Ponine? Do you have a fucking death-wish?”  
Éponine responded as if in a trance.  
“I knocked over a vase and I shoved him and he did nothing… And then you came in and he left…” A single tear fell from her eye.  
“He’s not doing anything now, so it will be worse later when we aren’t expecting it. I know you were a little house slave, but I know the score: he is going to bring us to the brink of death for your stupidity,” Grantaire spat.  
Éponine whimpered and started crying. Grantaire immediately wrapped his arms around her and they fell on the bed together and he held her on his chest until her breathing evened out. Then he closed his eyes and slept.


	2. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some regression, some tension... then resolved tension and fluff.

Enjolras put on the kettle with shaking hands. In all the years of buying and freeing slave he had never once raised his voice or physically assaulted one person. In the space of five minutes he had done both. He had grabbed her so hard her arms would probably bruise and Éponine and Grantaire would never trust him.   
“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck!” Enjolras cursed as he made himself coffee.  
Everything was ruined.  
Enjolras seated himself behind his desk in his study and started working on some contracts to distract him. He immersed himself in his work and only stopped working when his stomach grumbled. He glanced at the time on his computer: almost seven o’clock. He hadn’t eaten yet today. And Éponine and Grantaire only had a few meagre mouthfuls. At the thought of Éponine he felt overcome by guilt. He knew he was a monster, but he tried so hard to hide it. His friends often mocked him for never having a girlfriend or lover, he brushed them off. My only mistress is Patria, he would say. They called him the marble man. If only they knew what a demon he really was, what the true reason behind his lack of romance was, they would never trust him again.  
He took several deep breaths and calmed himself. It wouldn’t do to upset them more, especially Grantaire, who seemed to be more troubled than Éponine.  
He made his way up the stairs and into Éponine’s room. He found her curled up against Grantaire. Enjolras stepped on a squeaky floorboard and Grantaire’s eyes flew open. He shoved Éponine off him and fell to his knees next to the bed. The sound of bone meeting wood made Enjolras flinch.  
“Please, Master, I swear to you, we were not doing anything, please punish this slave as you see fit, but know I am a loyal slave, I would never use that which is yours,” Grantaire bent his head to Enjolras’ shoes.  
“Grantaire, please, stop,” Enjolras said, kneeling down next to the man. “I am not going to punish you. Everything is perfectly all right. I just wanted to fetch you for dinner. You both must be starving. I still don’t have much in the way of food, but I have pasta and fresh herbs,” Enjolras offered, with a hand on the man’s shoulder.  
“Master, I was an outdoors slave, I do not want to disappoint Master, but I do not know how to cook.” Grantaire looked as if he was going to pass out again.  
“Don’t be silly, I don’t want you to cook, but I do want you to eat. I’ll go get started in the kitchen and you two come down when you’re ready.” Enjolras smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. Then he looked up at Éponine who was sitting on the bed hugging her knees to her chest. Her brown eyes were wide with… gratitude?  
“Éponine, please tell Grantaire that I’m not going to hurt you and then come down to eat.”  
As Enjolras walked back to the kitchen he tried to calm his heart. Every time he looked at Éponine, his heart started beating like a rabbit’s. His reaction distressed him. He put the kettle on to boil the water for the spaghetti. When the spaghetti was cooking he started chopping up fresh basil, rocket and coriander that Jehan thankfully brought round yesterday from his garden.   
Éponine and Grantaire tentatively entered the kitchen. Enjolras smileed brightly at them. Grantaire immediately fell to his knees again, begging Enjolras to let him try to cook, that he only wants to be a good slave and please his new master.  
Éponine just stood behind him, eyes downcast.  
“Nonsense,” Enjolras said in his most assertive voice. “Grantaire, up you come and sit at the table. You too, Éponine.”  
“On the chairs, Master?” Grantaire asked confusedly.  
“Yes, love, on a chair,” Enjolras started grating a lemon for zest, another gift from Jehan.  
“But we are slaves, Sir; we don’t deserve to touch the furniture… I am sorry for contradicting Master.” Grantaire pressed his forehead to the floor.  
Enjolras stopped grating.  
“Grantaire, I’ve told you this, I didn’t buy you because I wanted a slave. I bought you to make you a free man. Free men can sit on whatever they like. Come sit.” As an afterthought he added, “Don’t call me Master.”  
Grantaire sat down trembling and pale faced. Éponine sat next to him, still not making eye-contact. Enjolras finished chopping and drained the spaghetti. In a white porcelain bowl he mixed the herbs, lemon zest and some salt and pepper into the pasta. He finished it off by squeezing the lemon juice over it. He placed the bowl in the middle of the table and brought them each a bowl and a fork and spoon.  
“I know it isn’t exactly a balanced meal, but it’s fresh and filling… I hope.” Enjolras sat down across from Éponine. He motioned her to take some of the pasta.  
Her eyes finally met his.  
“I don’t understand, Sir.”   
All the fire from this afternoon was gone, replaced by a dead voice.  
“Help yourself.” He gestured to the bowl again.  
She stood up slightly and took the serving spoon in one small hand and dropped a helping of pasta into his bowl.  
“No, no, I meant, serve yourself, as in take some pasta for you,” Enjolras corrected in a kind voice.  
“I am a slave, I don’t deserve to be eating food Master made for himself at Master’s table like a person,” Éponine deadpanned.  
Enjolras’ gaped at her.  
“Éponine, what are you talking about? What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” Then he remembered grabbing her and shouting at her.  
“I am very sorry for acting the way I did this afternoon. I understand you have been through a lot and obviously didn’t want to talk to me, I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk to me. And then I shouldn’t have grabbed and yelled at you. It was unforgivably rude of me. Will you please accept my apology and eat some of my potentially awful cooking?” Enjolras finished with a wry smile, but felt queasy. Something was very off.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Sir. I am a slave that you may treat as you want.”  
Enjolras abruptly stood up and walked to the girl. He cupped his face in his left hand.   
“What is this? Tell me why you are acting like this,” he demanded.  
“I am a slave, Sir, and I’m just trying to be good to better please Master.”  
Her expressionless eyes stared up at him. Suddenly he felt a red hot rush of anger flood him. He was angry at all the people who had ruined Éponine’s life and made her like this. He was angry at Éponine for suddenly losing her ferocity. Before he could think it through he picked up his bowl she had filled with pasta and slammed it down in front of her so hard he thought the bowl might break.  
“Eat,” he ordered in a low voice.  
Grantaire was shaking.  
Enjolras pointed at him.   
“You too.”   
Grantaire helped himself to a tiny helping of pasta, glancing uncertainly at Enjolras.  
“More.”  
Enjolras watched him like a hawk until he had what Enjolras thought was enough food in his bowl. Then Enjolras took the empty bowl from under Éponine’s nose. She was only staring at the pasta.  
“I know it might taste like shit to you, but you haven’t had a meal in days, you need the food right now. So you can eat it yourself or I can come and feed it to you,” he told her sternly, his anger starting to dissipate.  
“Whatever Master would prefer,” she whispered.  
Enjolras picked up her hand and placed a fork in it. He tried to push the pleasure he got from touching her hand to the back of his mind.  
“Eat, please.”   
“I am sorry to bother Master, but are we supposed to eat with the fork?” Grantaire asked in a wobbly voice.  
Enjolras looked baffled.   
“How else would you eat?” he enquired.  
“This slave has never eaten with a fork before, Sir. We only ever ate with our hands, like the filthy animals we are.”   
“Don’t call yourself that,” Enjolras snapped. “Just mimic what I’m doing. And eat, Éponine.”  
They finished their meal in extremely awkward silence until Éponine spoke.   
“May I clear the table, Sir?”  
“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it. Do you two want to go watch some television, maybe?” Enjolras suggested.  
“Master, slaves don’t…” Grantaire begin, but Enjolras cut him off.  
“I don’t want to hear it. Go and turn on the television, I’ll join you shortly.”  
They awkwardly stood up and made their way into the lounge. Only when Enjolras heard the television turning on, did he start to wash the dishes. He remembered the platter of food from this afternoon. He went into the lounge to get it, when he saw Éponine and Grantaire kneeling on the floor in front of the television.  
“What are you doing?”  
“We are watching the television, Sir,” Grantaire answered.  
“But why are you kneeling?”  
“It is the proper position for a slave.”  
Enjolras picked up the platter.  
“Both of you, on the sofa, now.”   
They stood up silently and awkwardly sat down.   
“Get comfortable, put you feet up. You are not slaves in this house, you are guests. Just relax,” he returned to the kitchen and finished cleaning the dishes as quickly as he could. He joined the duo again. They were in the exact same positions that he left them in. He chose to ignore that.  
“Tomorrow I want to buy you some clothes,” he said.  
“That isn’t necessary, Master, slaves don’t need clothes,” Éponine muttered.  
“I can’t set you free without clothes, can I?” Enjolras asked.  
Both slaves just looked down.  
“Please, could you just stop acting like this? I know you’re scared of me and what I’m asking goes against your past experiences, but please just stop acting like this. I want you to get used to the idea of being free. I want you to talk to me, to get comfortable… please.” Enjolras looked close to tears.  
He couldn’t understand what had happened to make them regress so rapidly.  
The slaves were silent.  
“When was the last time you two had a shower?” Enjolras asked.  
“Outdoors slaves get hosed off once a week, Sir,” Grantaire replied.  
“Well, free men shower daily. Why don’t you two go to your bathrooms and take a shower? There is shampoo and soap in both the bathrooms. The red knob is for warm water and the blue one for cold. Make the water a nice lukewarm temperature, no need for you to have a cold shower.” Enjolras smiled at Grantaire.  
Grantaire obediently stood up to leave, but Éponine stayed where she was. After his footsteps had disappeared up the stairs Éponine addressed Enjolras.  
“I am sorry for my behaviour earlier this afternoon, Sir. I am ready to be punished.” She slid down onto her knees.  
“Éponine, love, I am not going to punish you,” Enjolras assured her. She stayed on the floor.  
“I need to punished, Sir, otherwise I will never learn,” she whispered.  
“Éponine, you don’t have to learn anything, except how to be a free woman. I want you to stand up and go take a shower and then sleep.”  
“Please, Master, I know I’ve been bad and I know it’s effort to punish me, but please… It is the only way I will ever learn.” Her head was still bowed submissively.  
Enjolras started to panic. Her behaviour was causing him to lose his careful control over his monstrous desires. He couldn’t show her that.   
“I need to be hurt to learn my lesson, Master.”  
That sentence was the final straw. Enjolras was hard in his pants and he had no way to hide it. It was right in front of her beautiful face.  
“I…” he started to apologise, but her small, deft hands were already unzipping his fly.  
“Let me show you that I can be a good slave, Master,” she said, reaching her hand to cup his erection.  
He hissed at the contact and grabbed both of her thin wrists.  
“No, Éponine, this isn’t what I want. I don’t want you to pleasure me. I don’t want you to feel bad anymore; you have nothing to feel bad about. I just want you to go shower and go to bed,” Enjolras said in a strangled voice.  
“But, Master, I will feel bad until I have been punished,” she tried to lower her mouth onto his cock.  
Enjolras pulled her torso up by her wrists just in time.  
“Sexual acts are not supposed to be a punishment,” Enjolras said, even though his cock twitched.  
“I do not want you to engage in any sexual activity that is not of your free will.”  
“I have no free will, Master, I am a bad, bad slave who needs to be punished.”  
Enjolras was starting to feel light-headed. There was no blood in his brain left.  
“Listen to me, Éponine, I cannot do this with you. I want to have you pleasure me, because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but I have these… urges. I do not only want to have sex with you and kiss you, I want… other things, things that make me a monster.” His face was contorted as if he was in agony.  
“You may do anything you wish to me, Master. I am your slave.” Éponine bowed her head submissively.  
“No, I may not. You do not want me, you feel you need punishment,” Enjolras gritted out.  
“Master, not that it matters, but you are the most attractive man I have ever seen,” Éponine shyly whispered to him.  
“But what about Grantaire? Aren’t you lovers?” he asked, confused.  
“No, Sir. He would never touch Master’s property.”  
“Do you want him? Answer honestly”  
“No, Sir. He is my dearest friend, but I do not want him like I want you,” she purred.  
“Oh God…” he moaned, “you’re lying.”  
“No, Sir, lying is a great sin.”  
He gave her a sharp look. There seemed to be a glimmer of fire back in her eyes.  
“I have only ever been with an old man, who took great pleasure in causing me pain. You are young and incredibly handsome. You seem to not want to hurt me - a worthless slave. I want to show you how thankful I am.”  
Her eyes were definitely bright now. But she thought Enjolras wasn’t going to hurt her.  
“I know you think you want this, but it’s just Stockholm syndrome. You think you want to do this, because in your mind I took you away from something worse. I am a monster. I…” he looked down at her face and his eyes were swimming with tears. “I want to hurt you. I have never told anyone this, but I have never been with a woman, because what arouses me most is the thought of a woman in pain. I know I am disgusting, monstrous, but I can’t help it. The only thing I can do is to not engage in sexual contact.” He was blushing furiously and even his cock shrunk slightly, because of his shame.  
“Are you a virgin, Master?” Éponine asked with wide eyes.  
He just nodded.   
“Please, do to me what you like, I can take it, I promise I can take it,” she whispered to him excitedly.  
He shook his head, biting his lip. His eyes were squeezed shut.  
“No,” he moaned, his hands leaving her wrists to tear in his own hair.  
Éponine saw this as her chance. She stood up and straddled him, grinding her sex against him.  
“Stop,” he whispered, but buried her face in her breast.  
“I have never felt like this before, Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve never wanted to fuck someone before. But now... I feel this weird knot right here,” she took his hand and placed in on her flat stomach.   
“It feels good when I rub myself against you.” She ground down on him, eliciting a moan from his lips.  
“I think I’m aroused for the first time in my life – all because of seeing you fight your inner demons. Seeing how you battle against your dark side. It feels wet down there,” she whimpered in his ear. “It has never felt like this before: I want to do something about this feeling and I think I need to fuck you.”  
Enjolras made a primal noise and hugged her impossibly small waist to his hard chest.  
“This is wrong, I’m taking advantage of you...” he started to move her off him.  
“No, please, Sir! Please,” she was writhing on his lap, desperate for friction.  
Enjolras took a shuddering breath and stilled.  
“Go lie on the couch.”  
There was no way Éponine could disobey the command.  
She pulled his T-shirt over her head and laid on the couch stark naked.  
Enjolras knelt down beside her. He tilted his head to suck the closest nipple and his other hand immediately brushed her sex. When his fingers were sufficiently lubricated, he began massaging her clit.   
“Oh God! What are you doing?” Her cheeks were flushed and her hips bucked, as if of their own accord.  
“I’m making you feel good, no?” His cheeks were also flushed and he wore a smile of complete rapture.   
“Yes, so good...” She closed her eyes and just thrust in time with his hand. It only took about eight minutes until she grabbed his hair and made a high keening sound and experienced her first orgasm.  
Enjolras leaned over to kiss her flushed cheek.  
“I... fuck... that was so weird... I can’t move...” Her eyes were hooded in pleasure.  
“I’m glad you liked it, now hopefully you can get a good night’s rest,” Enjolras said, already tucking his throbbing member back in his pants.  
“Let me return the favour?” Éponine smiled like a vixen.  
Enjolras sighed.  
“I thought I explained to you the reason why you couldn’t,” he said, glancing at her naked form regretfully.  
“I could take a little pain in exchange for this much pleasure.”  
“No. That is wrong,” he said dismissively.  
Éponine was on her feet again.  
“Do I have to make you angry again?” she asked, impishly.  
“Please don’t.” He sounded so weary.  
“Then punish me for being a greedy little slave who made you pleasure her.”  
“No.”  
“What are you scared of?” She was right under his nose again.  
“Myself – what I might do to you,” he gritted out.  
Then she slapped him across the face.  
“Liar. You’re afraid you’ll have to compromise your beliefs if you like beating and fucking me too much.”  
Enjolras could feel the rage fuelled by his arousal build.  
“Don’t you dare ever hit me again,” his voice was low and warning.  
Her hand made to deliver another slap, but he caught her wrist. In seconds she was pulled over his lap and his palm smacked down on her ass. She yelped slightly. He hit firmly, but not hard enough to qualify as really hurting. She wiggled and felt his member twitch beneath her. His hand kept on smacking firmly.   
The spanking stopped abruptly. His hand rubbed the pink flesh of her ass. It was stinging and his touch felt good. His hand stilled.  
“Oh my God.” He sounded horrified.  
“What have I done? I’m so sorry,” he lifted her off his lap. “I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He looked absolutely terrified.  
Éponine was looking at the fretting man in front of her incredulously.   
“Was that it?” she asked, not able to keep the laughter out of her voice.  
“I’m so sorry,” he chanted over and over.  
“Monsieur, that was nothing! I thought you wanted to tie me up and punch me until I spat blood!” Éponine laughed. “A little smacking isn’t bad.”  
“No, I hurt you. I’m a monster.” He buried his head in his hands.   
“Turn around,” came his muffled order.  
Éponine obediently turned her back to him.  
Enjolras groaned again. The sight of her pink ass made him painfully aware of his need, but also made him feel guilty. Without warning she wiggled her ass in his face. Instinctively he gave her another slap. He was entranced to see her ass wobble slightly on impact. Éponine just giggled.   
Enjolras looked at her face. She was smiling genuinely. Her cheeks were still flushed. Her brown eyes glittered playfully at him. She bit her lip and giggled again.  
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to sit on his lap. She curled her legs up and placed them astride his thighs on the couch.   
“Are you sure I’m not a monster?” he asked softly, uncertainly.  
“You’re not a monster, just a man who likes to smack me like a little girl,” she said and nuzzled her nose into his blond curls.  
“Oh God, now you’re making me sound like a paedophile.” Despite the comment he was smiling. This beautiful naked woman was perched on his lap with her pink ass.  
“Everyone has something they like,” she said. “I evidently like to make a man angry. You like to punish me. It looks like we were meant to be,” she joked.  
His arms instinctively tightened around her.  
“Don’t tempt me, love.”  
They shared a moment of silent contentment.  
“If you have never been with a girl, where did you learn what you did to me?”   
Enjolras blushed.  
“It’s a pretty wacky story, actually. A friend of mine, Cosette, broke her arm in my second year of university. It was a pretty stressful time, exam-wise. She had to dictate all her answers to someone; it was all very frustrating for her. So one night I was tutoring her in first-year maths. She’s a year younger than me, and even though I studied law, I’m pretty good at math. And she was so stressed and then started crying. I didn’t know what to do. Then she said that she hasn’t come since she broke her arm and she was just so sexually frustrated. Stupidly, I asked if there was anything I could do to help.” Enjolras smiled bashfully at Éponine. “She taught me how to pleasure a woman. Marius would die if he ever found out. They’re married now.”  
“That is a demanding woman,” Éponine said.  
“Well, the education came in handy, didn’t it?” He pressed his lips to her soft neck.  
“You must let me return the favour,” Éponine breathed.  
“I don’t want you to do anything that will remind you of your old master. I want you to be a free woman. I want you to tell me to stop if I do something you don’t like.” He started to remove his arms.  
“No! Please... hold me like that,” Éponine drew his hands around her again.  
“I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling, but I feel happy. I feel so cared for... I didn’t even mind the smacking. It’s like the feeling I got when Ailain used to smack me, but it also makes me feel mushy right here.” She rubbed her hand over her stomach.  
“That is arousal.” Enjolras was throbbing again.  
“Well, it’s nice. My previous master didn’t make me feel that ever. You make me feel... so good.” She arched her back and rubbed her face into his shoulder.   
“Well, ‘Ponine, I aim to please. And I don’t want to trigger any bad feelings in you, but I do sort of need release now. You can go take your shower now and sleep, I just need to take care of,” he gestured to his crotch, “this.”  
“Master... Enjolras, let me show you how good I can make you feel,” Éponine purred into his ear.  
“No, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to...” he started.  
“I want this.”  
Her statement sounded so assured, Enjolras couldn’t argue.   
Enjolras picked her up by her waist and turned her so she was straddling him. He kissed her and it was as if he was in heaven. Her plump lips were soft and warm against his own. She seemed startled at first, but quickly melted into the kiss. His tongue licked her lower lip and she opened her mouth to him. He rubbed her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to gasp against his mouth. Her hips started to gyrate. She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He was content to do this for a few minutes before he pulled away.  
“May I ask you to do something?” he panted.  
“Anything.”  
“Will you lay over my lap again? I won’t hit hard, I promise.”   
Éponine’s smile was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. She quickly turned herself over his lap. Enjolras couldn’t help feel his chest swell with pride at the wet spot she had left on his pants. He rubbed the slightly pink flesh before him. Then he gave her a soft almost-smack. She moaned and wiggled on his lap.  
“Stay still, my naughty girl,” Enjolras murmured and held her more tightly with his left arm. He started to lightly smack her, pausing after every few smacks to rub her ass.  
“May I give you a few hard ones, my love?” he asked, his voice filled with lust.  
Éponine felt her stomach tighten when he called her his love. She felt the same frenzied knot she felt before the couch affair. She thrust out her bottom at him.   
Without hesitation his hand came down hard on her ass. His finger marks were clearly visible on her. She gasped at the sudden impact. He rubbed the mark.  
“Are you okay, my love?”  
“Yes,” came her husky reply.   
He slapped her again, on the other cheek. He gave a low groan and thrust up into her stomach. She took that as her cue and slid down to kneel between his knees. His eyes followed her as she pulled out his hard cock. It was wet with precum and it looked vastly different to her old master’s. It was thick and slightly longer than her hand. She was overcome by the need to suck on it. This action made Enjolras gasp and grab at her hair. She slid her lips down his length, taking him all in. He whimpered and shallowly thrusted into her throat. She bobbed her head up and down a dozen times and then he came into her mouth with an animalistic grunt.   
His head dropped back onto the backrest of the couch as he struggled to catch his breath.  
Éponine settled herself back onto his lap with her cheek against his hard chest.   
Enjolras kissed her on the top of her head.  
“Thank you, I have never felt anything like that in my life,” he panted.  
“Well, you showed me something new, I had to return the favour,” she whispered.  
“You didn’t need to, love.” Enjolras wrapped his arms around her protectively.  
“I wanted to.” She was surprised at how true the words were.  
“I don’t want to feel pressured into it, but do you want to sleep in my bed tonight? If you find it weird, feel free to go to your own, but...”  
“I would love to, but maybe I should have that shower first,” she beamed at him.  
“I have a bath,” he suggested.  
“Perfect.”  
Without warning he stood up with her in his arms, bridal style. She squeaked at the sudden movement. He kicked off his jeans and boxers that were still hanging around his knees. Then he proceeded to carry her up the stairs and into his bedroom. He threw her down on his plush bed and could only laugh at her squeal of surprise and her subsequent squeal of delight at the soft bedding. He switched on his bedroom light and closed the door behind him.  
The bed was also an antique four-poster in a dark wood. All the furniture matched it. It was all antique and looked regal. The bed was covered in a soft black blanket. There were books scattered around the room as well as a red shirt on the floor. The room was clean and the bed made.   
Enjolras disappeared into the en suite bathroom and began drawing a bath. The marble bath was big enough for two people. He spotted an old bottle of his mother’s bubble bath and squirted in a healthy amount of it into the water. He left the water to run and walked into the room in time to see Éponine rolling around the bed like a dog trying to make itself comfortable. She stopped the moment she saw him and curled up bashfully.  
“Oh, don’t stop on my account, you were absolutely adorable,” he laughed.  
She just bit her lip and giggled.   
Enjolras took off his shoes and socks, tossing them in a laundry basket in the corner.   
“Would you mind if I joined you in the bath, ‘Ponine?”  
She nodded her head.  
“Don’t feel pressured...”  
“I don’t,” she cut him off.  
“Then come into the bathroom with me.”  
He turned off the running taps and tested the water temperature. It was pleasantly warm for the summer night. The bath was filled with bubbles. Enjolras slid into the bath and motioned her to sit between his legs. She hesitantly climbed in, but then relaxed into his chest with a sigh.  
He rubbed her arms and shoulders and kissed her neck.  
“Do you still think I am lying when I say I want to set you free and don’t want to hurt you?” he asked.  
“No,” she said uncertainly, as if she almost couldn’t believe it herself.  
“Good,” he said. “May I wash your hair?”  
“What?” she sounded confused.   
“May I wash your hair for you?” he repeated.  
“Master...”  
“Enjolras.”  
“Enjolras, I can do it myself...”  
“I could have made myself come, but you sucked me off beautifully. Just relax and let me take care of you,” he said in a loving voice. “Just wet your hair for me, darling.”  
Éponine slid down and submerged her head under the layer of bubbles. She had last had a bubble bath when she was very young, maybe six. She emerged, savouring the feeling of bubbles softly clinging to her face.  
His hands began massaging her scalp with shampoo that smelled of apples. His thumbs rubbed her temples and she closed her eyes. She softly moaned and let her head tip back.   
Enjolras finished rubbing her scalp and rubbed shampoo into the rest of her long hair.  
“Rinse, please.”  
She disappeared under the water again and threaded her fingers through her hair to wash out the shampoo.  
The next step was conditioner. Her hair was dry and broken and Enjolras was determined to fix that. It was lucky he had such “girly hair” as Courfeyrac always put it, he did own conditioner.  
He repeated the process of massaging her scalp and then rubbing the rest of the conditioner into her hair.  
“Rinse.”  
When she came up after the conditioning he started to get out of the bath.  
“Where are you going?” she asked, she asked in a soft voice.  
“I am going to let you wash yourself, I think you might want to do that after your recent accommodations at the auction house. I’m just going to be in the bedroom.”  
He left the bathroom with a towel around his slender hips and Éponine admired the view of his strong back and legs before he shut the door behind him. She relaxed into the water for a moment.  
This was the best day of her life. She was going to escape being a slave soon. She had an orgasm. She sucked off her owner... no, she didn’t want to think of her as her owner. He was just Enjolras, her angel.  
Then she leaned over to look at all the soaps and body washes Enjolras had accumulated on the marble surface next to the bath. She vowed to try them all before she left the bath.  
Meanwhile, Enjolras put on fresh boxers. He remembered the clothes they had left on the living room floor and started to go pick it up, lest Grantaire see it.   
Grantaire.  
Enjolras cursed under his breath. They were noisy at times; Grantaire probably heard them and assumed the worst. Enjolras suddenly felt very guilty about what he had done to Éponine.  
Done with Éponine, he corrected himself. He made his way down to the living room and picked up the clothes. He deposited them in his laundry basket. Éponine was still in the bathroom. He heard faint splashing noises and couldn’t help smiling to himself.  
Then he steeled himself and walked to Grantaire’s room.   
The door was ajar and he knocked softly.  
“Are you awake?”   
Grantaire was lying on his back on the bed, in the same clothes Enjolras had given him, but his mass of raven curls were wet.  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“You don’t need to call me sir. Did you have a good shower?”  
“Yes, Master.”  
Enjolras suddenly felt extremely self-conscious in his boxers.  
“Well, uhm, feel free to come and get me if you feel scared or freaked out or something. If you’re hungry, raid the fridge, for all it’s worth. We’ll go shopping for food and clothes tomorrow, okay? Good night, Grantaire.”  
“Good night, Master.”  
Enjolras stepped out of the room and left the door ajar as it was.  
He returned to his bedroom and shut the door. He then settled himself on the bed and waited for Éponine to finish up. It took about another five minutes for her to appear wrapped in one of his fluffy white towels. She beamed at him.  
“I think I used all of your fancy shower things, every single one of them,” she announced as if it was an accomplishment.  
Enjolras chuckled and stood up.  
“You are as cute as a button,” he said and tapped her nose with his forefinger.  
“Come sit over here, I’m going to blow-dry your hair a bit,” he said, patting a wooden bench at the vanity. He drew open a drawer and pulled out a hair-dryer and plugged it in.   
Éponine gave him a strange look, but sat down in front of him.  
“Prepare to be amazed at stylist Enjolras’ hair talents,” he said in his most camp voice. Éponine burst out laughing when he tossed his own curls and fluttered his eyelids at her in the mirror.  
Then he set to work brushing out her long hair with an old brush that was probably his mother’s long ago. He never really removed all his parents’ things, he just added his own.  
When her hair was sufficiently unknotted he started to blow-dry it. Éponine patiently watched him work with her hair until he declared it dry enough to sleep with.  
“Are you sure you’re comfortable sleeping here?” Enjolras asked as Éponine nestled her head on his chest. They were under the soft blanket but on top of the soft duvet and tangled in each other’s arms, so they were essentially in a cocoon of softness. Her naked leg was wrapped around his hips.  
“Yes,” she answered immediately.   
“Unless you want me to leave...” she said with much more uncertainty.  
“No, no, God no... I literally have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t a dream, that you are real and in my arms.” He tightened his arms around her. “I’m just worried about what Grantaire would think if he was to walk in and see us naked in bed together.”  
“Oh, shit. Were we noisy downstairs?” she asked, her eyes full of concern.  
“Well, we might have been... I went to check on him and it was extremely awkward,” Enjolras admitted.  
“Do you think I should go talk to him? Tell him what’s going on?” she asked.  
Enjolras cringed.  
“Please try and tell the story so I don’t sound like a lecherous bastard.”  
Éponine disentangled herself and started toward to door.  
“Don’t you want to put something on?” Enjolras sounded disbelieving as she walked nakedly to the door.  
“I was a sex slave and he was my best friend. I don’t have anything to hide.”   
With those words she disappeared down the hallway.  
In her absence, Enjolras could reflect upon the unlikely best day of his life.  
Éponine wasn’t disgusted with him or his desires.  
He wasn’t a monster after all.  
Éponine had sucked him off.  
He had brought Éponine to orgasm.  
It was definitely the start of something new.


	3. Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine explains to Grantaire what happened between her and Enjolras.

Éponine entered Grantaire’s room and shut the door behind her. She let out a soft squeal and jumped onto the bed that her best friend was lying on.  
“Éponine... what are you doing? Are you naked?” Grantaire fumed.  
“Yes, but, R, you won’t believe what happened! I stayed down there when you came upstairs to ask him to punish me for acting so horribly earlier. He didn’t want to though and it pissed me off that he just wouldn’t give me my punishment now and not take it out on us later. I tried to pleasure him, but he didn’t want that either and then we sort of argued. Then he told me to go lie on the couch and then he rubbed me here,” she placed a hand where her thighs met, “and it felt so good. You know when a man gets his cock rubbed and he comes? Something similar happened to me. Enjolras said I had come, it was like every muscle in my body contracted and then released and it was all from where he was rubbing and I was so turned on... I’ve never felt like that before, ever.”   
Éponine glanced over to meet Grantaire’s horrified gaze.  
“When he touched you, you... liked it?” he asked.  
“It was the best feeling ever! Have you ever come, R?”   
“Pleasure is not for slaves,” came his stiff response.  
“Then you don’t know what you’re missing, R. Enjolras is serious about setting us free, you know. We can enjoy ourselves, live our lives!” she beamed at him.  
“You can’t believe that, you’re smarter than that, ‘Ponine,” he said dismissively.  
“No, listen to the rest! I told him I wanted to return the favour. And, before you ask, I know he wanted me, he was hard as a rod. It was weird; I could literally see how he was fighting with himself not to fuck me or something, because I was being a right bitch about it. Then, and I don’t know why this seemed a good idea at the time, but... I slapped him.”  
“What?” Grantaire interrupted her. He buried his head in his pulled up knees and moaned.  
“No, no... just listen to the whole story. I slapped him and then I tried to slap him again, but he pulled me over his lap and he smacked me.”  
“I think that was more than justified.”  
“He smacked me softly though, my ass wasn’t even red. And then he freaked out and apologised, but then I told him it was fine, he’s normal. He kept calling me ‘love’ and it made me tingly again and eventually we started kissing and then I sucked him off. But get this – he’s a virgin. It was the first time he had his cock sucked. And then he held me and carried – fucking carried – me up the stairs. And then we had a bath and he washed my hair for me and then I washed myself with a bagillion soaps and gels and it was a bubble bath! And then he blow dried my hair for me. You have to believe his story if he would do all that for a slave,” she finished.  
Grantaire was shocked into silence.  
“It has to be a trap,” he muttered.  
“No, R, it isn’t. We’re going to be free!”  
Éponine threw herself onto his torso and hugged him.  
“I want to believe this...”  
“Then just believe it, R. Enjolras is a good man.”  
“And he didn’t force you to do anything?” he asked sceptically.  
“No, he didn’t. I wanted to do everything I did. And right now I’m going to go sleep on his chest and start feeling like a free woman, with a boyfriend and all those things old Master’s children had and we didn’t. Enjolras is our angel.”  
Éponine kissed Grantaire on his forehead.  
“Sleep well, my friend. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
Éponine slipped of his bed and practically skipped down the hall and physically pounced on Enjolras’ dozing form.  
“Hey, you need to calm down, sugar plum,” he chuckled.  
“But, Enjy...” she whined. Whining was new, she had heard it enough from old Master’s grandchildren, but had never used it herself.  
“Don’t call me that, or I might have to spank you,” he said, only half joking.  
“You told me you wanted to make me a free woman, I’m only practising,” she said reproachfully.  
“You can practise tomorrow; I want you to sleep now.”  
Éponine slid into the bed next to Enjolras. She rested her head on his warm chest.  
“Is this wrong, Enjolras?” she asked after a few moments.  
“Nothing that feels this right could ever be wrong,” he said sleepily. “Go to sleep now, mon cher.”  
Éponine closed her eyes and listened to Enjolras’ steady heartbeat.  
Nothing had ever felt more right.


	4. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine injures herself and has to trust Enjolras to be different from her previous master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I've been summer holiday-ing up until now. Will be updating more regularly now, hopefully .

Éponine was aware of light shining on her face. She opened her left eye a crack and saw the sun steaming in from a large bay window. Then she became aware of the warm body under her.  
“Fuck!”  
Enjolras was ripped from his slumber by a scrambling woman. Éponine propelled herself off the bed with her hands against his chest. She hit the floor with a loud bang.  
“Éponine?”  
Enjolras was a morning person and was instantly wide awake. The memories of last night came flooding back to him and the fact that she obviously just wanted to get away from him made his heart sink.  
He leaned over the side of the bed. Éponine was kneeling with her forehead pressed against the floor. He could make out she was whimpering slightly.  
Enjolras threw the covers off his body and kneeled next to Éponine. He pulled her up by her bare shoulders.  
“Did I do something? What’s wrong? Tell me,” he demanded from the shaking girl.  
“I... I just... I was startled when I woke up and you were so close, I thought someone was going to r... rape me or something...” She looked like a deer in the headlights.  
Enjolras drew her against his chest and just held her until her breathing returned to normal.  
“I’m going to call Combeferre and he is going to bring us some breakfast, okay? Go wake Grantaire and make him presentable,” he said in his most loving voice.  
Éponine nodded and stood up. Enjolras’ good morning spank was greeted with a radiant smile over her shoulder and then she was gone.  
Unfortunately, it only worsened Enjolras’ morning wood.  
After he called Combeferre and told him to bring eggs and whatever else he had, he texted Courfeyrac to ditch whatever floozy he woke up next to and come join them for breakfast, because he needed some advice.

Enjolras came down the stairs in a slightly worse mood than he was in when he woke up, thanks to his cold shower.  
Éponine was sitting on his marble kitchen counter, as naked as the day she was born. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. On the down side, Grantaire was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, like he was too scared to touch anything.  
“I cook on that, you know,” Enjolras said and tossed Éponine a clean T-shirt.  
She hopped off the counter and pulled the T-shirt over her head. It was slightly shorter than yesterday’s; he was going to have to tell her to keep her beautiful legs closed.  
“Good morning, Grantaire. Combeferre, friend extraordinaire and fellow abolitionist, is on his way with food as we speak. Do you drink coffee?” he asked, in an effort to lighten the uncomfortable atmosphere.  
“Slaves aren’t allowed coffee.”  
Grantaire didn’t even make eye-contact.  
Yeah, because he thinks you raped his best friend, you asshole, Enjolras chided himself.  
“Good thing I don’t see you as slaves, then.”  
“Yes, Master.”  
“R… we’ve been over this: Enjolras is serious about setting us free,” Éponine chimed in.  
Enjolras gave her a look that he hoped said thank you and then busied himself with the espresso machine.  
“Sit, you’re a nervous presence, looming around like the ghost of Christmas past!”  
Éponine managed to shove the much taller and stronger Grantaire into a chair.  
“Is that really so hard?”  
Enjolras would have laughed at the scene: Éponine in his T-shirt with her hands on her hips, scolding Grantaire… but Grantaire’s distressed expression killed it.  
The little wall-phone rang. Enjolras recognised Courfeyrac’s car in the screen and pressed the button to open the gates. He took the house-keys from the wall and tossed them to Éponine.  
“Open up the door for Courfeyrac, would you?”  
He busied himself with taking out mugs and preparing five cappuccinos.  
Courfeyrac stumbled into the kitchen – clearly he wasn’t completely sober yet.  
“Did you drive here?” Enjolras asked in his disapproving voice.  
“Don’t need a lecture, need coffee.”  
He grabbed a mug and took a large gulp. His foam moustache made him look like a hipster cowboy. He suddenly noticed Grantaire.  
“Well, pleased to meet you!” He held out a large hand for Grantaire to shake.  
“It can’t be easy living with the Marble Man, here,” he said in a terrible stage whisper.  
“Master Enjolras...” Grantaire started.  
“Master? Mr Marble here has you calling him ‘Master’?” Courfeyrac asked incredulously. “What the actual fuck, team leader?”  
“Grantaire is having some problems coming to terms with his impending freedom,” Enjolras said, guiltily sipping his cappuccino.  
Éponine reappeared and made her way to Enjolras.  
“May I have one?” she pointed to the mugs.  
“Yeah, give one to Grantaire too, please,” Enjolras said, feeling thoughtless for not offering already.  
Éponine took a tentative sip.  
“It’s strange... not in a bad way though...” she mused.  
“What’s with you, doll-face, have you never had a cappuccino before?” Courfeyrac asked, leering at her bare legs.  
“Slaves don’t drink coffee,” she stated and jumped onto the counter again. Enjolras moved to stand in front of her, so Courfeyrac couldn’t see between her spread legs.  
“Come one, I know you’re made of marble, but let a man of flesh and blood appreciate the view,” Courfeyrac laughed.  
Enjolras just saw red. The idea of Courfeyrac staring at Éponine’s private parts immediately sent him into a blind rage and he punched the drunken man in the face.  
“Fuck!” Courfeyrac went sprawling onto the tiles and his mug shattered. Éponine gasped loudly and dropped her mug. The pieces joined the shards that were already all over the kitchen floor.  
Enjolras was contemplating kicking his friend in the stomach when the sound of bone meeting hard tiles made him wheel around. Éponine was on her knees frantically trying to scrape together the pieces of the white mug. She looked up at him: tears had already made tracks across her stricken face.  
Enjolras roughly pulled her up under her arms – her knees were bloody from shards that she had fallen on when she slipped from the counter to her knees.  
“Oh Lord.”  
Éponine recoiled from him, as if expecting a slap.  
Enjolras gripped her chin with his right hand.  
“Éponine... Éponine, listen,” he said using his dominant voice. “This is not your fault, calm down. Are your knees okay? Jesus Christ, what made you do that?”  
He calmed himself. Anger would only scare her more.  
“Grantaire, could you help? Just get her onto the couch, I think she might have fractured her knees...”  
Grantaire immediately wrapped his arm around Éponine’s waist and hobbled with her to the couch.  
“You,” Enjolras pointed at Courfeyrac’s confused expression, “get your sorry drunk ass up and clean this mess and then go sleep it off.”  
Enjolras walked to Éponine.  
“What just happened?” he demanded.  
“I... I broke the mug...” she stammered.  
“So?” Enjolras could feel his control slipping. “It’s a fucking mug! Do you think I give a fuck if you broke it? I punched my pervert friend in the face and you were startled and you dropped it, big fucking deal!”  
He turned away and ran a hand through his hair. Then he wheeled around.  
“Why would you drop down onto your knees, onto a floor full of ceramic shards?” he crouched down and removed her hands from her face. “Just tell me why.”  
“I... I thought you were going to beat me and sell me... and I don’t want to go... I think I love you...” she clamped her hands over her mouth in shock and started to sob again.  
Courfeyrac’s head popped around the archway into the kitchen.  
“You’d do much better loving me, pumpkin. That one doesn’t even have a cock, if rumours can be believed...”  
“FUCK OFF!” Enjolras roared.  
He disappeared, muttering to himself.  
“Combeferre is a doctor and he’s probably almost here, okay?” Éponine was starting to hyperventilate.  
“No, no, no... Éponine, look at me, don’t do this to me now,” Enjolras took her face in his hands.  
The wall-phone rang, signalling Combeferre had also arrived.  
Enjolras cursed under his breath. He motioned for Grantaire to stay with Éponine and didn’t miss the glare Grantaire gave him. He buzzed Combeferre in and grabbed the key and waited for him on the porch.  
Combeferre climbed out of his car and was about to cheerfully greet his best friend on this beautiful summer morning when he saw Enjolras’ face.  
“Thank God you’re here, ‘Ferre.”  
Enjolras threw his arms around the man.  
“Courfeyrac is lying drunk on my kitchen floor after I punched him for perving on my female slave and then she dropped her mug and now she is on the couch having some sort of breakdown... she told me she loves me.”  
Enjolras sounded as if he was going to cry.  
“Loves you?” Combeferre was convinced he must have misheard Enjolras.  
“We... had some... I made her come and she gave me head and she slept on my chest and it’s all a massive mess...”  
Combeferre went into doctor-mode, because it would take time to internalise the fact that Enjolras had had a sexual experience.  
“I bought eggs and some peppers and mushrooms to make omelettes. You go cook and deal with Courf, I’ll check her knees.”  
“There are tweezers in the bathroom, in the little basket. There are shards in her knees. You’re a godsend, man.”  
Enjolras took the basket of food from his friend and darted back inside.  
Combeferre took a deep breath and then walked into the house.  
There was a dark girl clad in only a T-shirt crying hysterically on the couch in the living room. A curly-haired man was hovering protectively over her.  
“I am Dr Combeferre, I understand she fell?” he said and shook the man’s hand.  
“Yes, Sir, she slid from the counter onto her knees,” he said, looking down.  
“Okay.” Combeferre kneeled next to Éponine. “I’m a doctor, could you straighten your legs for me?”  
While Combeferre was examining Éponine, Enjolras was making omelettes.  
Courfeyrac leaned over the counter and whispered to Enjolras.  
“Sorry for being a dick and looking at your woman, man. Not cool. But, what’s up with the declaration of love?”  
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Enjolras admitted. He stole a glance into the living room: they were all pretty engrossed in Éponine.  
He motioned Courfeyrac to stand closer to him so he could keep his voice down.  
“She sucked me off last night.”  
“WHAT?”  
“Shh! And I made her come,” he said, his heart swelling with pride at the memory.  
“Well, hey, man, you’re finally an actual man!”  
“But she obviously has some issues, she was a sex slave since she was fourteen. She goes from being really assertive, to being completely shut off and scared. Like that little episode you saw, with the mug.”  
“Yeah, it’s a hard one,” Courfeyrac agreed. “But if she loves you, you better take this chance, because you ain’t exactly a ladies’ man.”  
“But she doesn’t love me! I bought her yesterday!” Enjolras exclaimed as loudly as he dared.  
“Just answer me one question, Enj: if you aren’t asexual, why only now?” Courfeyrac asked, seeming genuinely baffled.  
Enjolras looked down.  
“I have some strange... ahem... desires.”  
“And she let you do whatever you like to do to her?”  
“Well... yes.”  
“Then she’s a keeper, brother.” Courfeyrac clapped him on the shoulder and started to clean up the mess of coffee and mug on the floor.  
Enjolras finished the omelettes and Courfeyrac helped him carry the plates into the living room.  
“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Enjolras asked, plastering on a smile to counter Éponine’s grim expression.  
“Éponine might have a slight fissure in her right knee, but is she keeps off her knees, it should all heal. Just give her something for the pain, it’s gotta be hurting.” He started eating his omelette amid the bloody shards he pulled out of Éponine’s knees and Enjolras turned his attention to Éponine.  
“Hey, I’m sorry if I was rude, I was just scared for you. Now, eat your omelette so I can give you something for your knees.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, but it had everyone’s eyes on them. He chose to ignore it and sat down at the coffee table to eat.

Grantaire helped Enjolras gather the plates when they were all done and took them into the kitchen.  
“I can wash them...” he offered.  
“I don’t want to take advantage...” Enjolras started.  
“I...” he looked down, but seemed to brace himself and looked Enjolras in the eyes. “Thank you for caring about Éponine. I am starting to come around, about the impending freedom thing.”  
“I appreciate that.” Enjolras touched his hand to Grantaire’s shoulder and left him to do the dishes.  
Courfeyrac and Combeferre were chatting on the couch and Éponine was just sitting awkwardly to the side.  
Enjolras scooped Éponine up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, not paying any mind to the looks from his friends.  
He laid her down on the bed and she instantly recoil from him.  
“No,” he said firmly, sitting next to her and grabbing her shoulders.  
“You are going to tell me exactly what is going through your mind.”  
Her eyes became more saucer-like at his authoritarian tone.  
“I’m sorry for what I said,” she mumbled.  
“What part of what you said?”  
“That I love you.”  
She looked down and the picture almost broke Enjolras’ marble heart.  
“Éponine, I... I don’t want to come across as creepy, but in a way I love you too,” he admitted. It felt as if a weight was lifted from his chest and he could breathe freely for the first time.  
“In a way... even I, the stupid slave-girl, know that that means you don’t.”  
“No, fuck... I haven’t ever even had a girlfriend. These feelings are all new to me. I just need to get used to them. And I feel so guilty for my feelings toward you, because you are still a slave under law and you’re so much younger than me...”  
Then Enjolras remembered.  
“How old are you again?” he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.  
“Seventeen.”  
“Shit. That’s a seven year difference. Can you see all these reasons why I am reluctant to admit that I love you?”  
“It’s my birthday on the second of November. Will you love me then?” Her big brown eyes carried all the sadness of her short life and Enjolras felt as if he was drowning in emotion.  
“Fuck it all, I love you.”  
He kissed her passionately. She immediately responded by arching her back and kissing him back with fervour.  
He abruptly broke the kiss.  
“I have to go shopping for clothes and food.”  
“Can’t that wait?” she said, her need evident in her voice.  
It took one look at Éponine’s nubile body that was quivering with need for release for him to settle down beside her and give her her second orgasm of her life.

___

“I really have to go, lovely one,” Enjolras chuckled as Éponine tried to pull him on top of her. She had come and he was still hard as a steel rod, but it was fine.  
Éponine loves me.  
“No… It’s extremely unfair that I get pleasure and you don’t.”  
Her bottom lip jutted out and Enjolras thought that he would have to spank her for pouting like that in the future.  
“I do derive pleasure from seeing you writhe under my hand, Mademoiselle. But it’s after ten already, I have to get going.”  
Enjolras stood up and kissed Éponine on each of her flushed cheeks.  
“I’m going to give you something for the pain, okay?”  
“You just did.”  
Éponine’s smirk was positively diabolical.  
Enjolras reached into his bedside table and drew out some generic paracetamol.  
“There’s a glass in the bathroom, I’ll go fetch some water. Then drink this please.” He placed the tablet on the duvet next to her and started to the bathroom.  
“I’m not drinking that.”  
Enjolras turned around to frown at Éponine’s distrusting look.  
“Why, pray tell?” Enjolras suspected this was another ploy to keep him in bed.  
“I don’t like pills. They make me feel bad.” Éponine looked determined.  
“Not all medicine is the same, love. This is not much paracetamol, it shouldn’t make you feel anything except less pain,” Enjolras explained gently.  
“That’s what Master said, too,” Éponine muttered.  
Then Enjolras remembered that his little angel had been through a lot.  
“Did your previous owner drug you?”  
“He gave me pills for the pain, sometimes, after… you know. But it only made me see and hear things and then he would do more things to me and I would scream, because everything was just so much worse.” Éponine’s voice was small.  
“He liked me to scream.”  
Enjolras cupped her face.  
“I will never do that to you. I never want to see you in pain or distress,” Enjolras assured her.  
“But you also like to hit me,” Éponine said with genuine innocence.  
“I’m so sorry if I hit you too hard; the idea was never to cause you real pain…” Enjolras pulled away and cursed his own nature.  
“I’m sorry I did that to you, I will never do it again,” he promised.  
“No! It’s fine if you do it, it didn’t really feel bad and it definitely didn’t hurt. I just wanted to say that I know that I only deserve to be hurt, because I’m a filthy little whore, but I would prefer to not take the pill.”  
Enjolras almost burst into tears.  
“No one deserves to be hurt, ever! It’s not even about hurting you… it’s about the authority… I like being in control and… with you over my lap I feel like I’m in complete control. I realise it’s a disgusting thing to want; I just can’t help it… I won’t spank you ever again if you don’t want it. I don’t know how I could have thought you liked it…” Enjolras felt himself starting to tumble down a familiar rabbit-hole of self-loathing.  
“Enjolras, stop!” He kept looking down.  
“Ange, I liked being spanked. It made me feel wanted and loved and tingly. There is nothing wrong with what we did last night. I just don’t want to go into that space I was in when I take pills,” Éponine explained.  
“I would never give you anything that would impair your mind! I thought you understood that I love you and want to keep you safe!” Enjolras yelled.  
“I’m sorry. I’m still adjusting, Enjolras.”  
Éponine’s voice sounded so weary, that Enjolras instantly forgot all his self-deprecating emotions and just wrapped his arms around his little girl. They stayed like that for a few minutes.  
“I’m going to bring you water and then you’re going to trust in me and drink the tablet,” Enjolras said, but it was more of a question.  
Éponine just nodded.  
Enjolras filled a glass with tap-water and held it out for her to swallow the pill with.  
She did.  
“You’re my good girl, ‘Ponine,” Enjolras said and kissed her on top of her head.  
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be,” she murmured.  
“I’ll send Courf and ‘Ferre to come keep you company and I’ll ask Grantaire to go shop with me,” he said. “Do you have any specific requests regarding clothes and food?”  
“No white dresses. I’m not a little slave girl anymore. I’m a woman now,” Éponine said assuredly.  
“Yes, you are.”  
Enjolras made his way down the stairs.


	5. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjy go shopping. Combeferre confronts Enjolras about his relationship with Éponine .

Enjolras had asked Courf and ‘Ferre to stay upstairs with Éponine and show her pictures of clothes that he and Grantaire took while shopping.  
Enjolras and Grantaire climbed in the car. Grantaire looked slightly overwhelmed by the interior of Enjolras’ BMW.  
“So,” Enjolras said, “part of the mission of the Les Amis de l’ABC is to prepare former slaves for their new lives. The change can be immense and overwhelming, especially if the circumstances were dire, as I can only assume yours were.”  
“My old master really wasn’t that bad…” Grantaire started to defend his previous owner, but saw Enjolras’ ridiculous grimace and then chuckled.  
“Fine, it was pretty shitty.”  
“Good Lord, man! Finally I’m making some progress!” Enjolras exclaimed with a wide smile. This little excursion might be just what he needed to get his mind off the ‘I would very much like to spank Éponine, but that would make me a monster’-situation.  
“Yeah, I do believe this whole abolitionist thing now, there is no possible way you could get someone as drunk as Courf to act to trick me and Ep,” Grantaire said. He was grinning, but closely monitoring Enjolras’ face for his reaction.   
Enjolras’ mouth formed a thin line and Grantaire assumed the worst.  
“I’m sorry you had to see that. He does over-indulge occasionally, but I didn’t think he would show up like that at my house, he knows I hate… intoxication.”  
Enjolras wasn’t mad at Grantaire for crossing a line, he was mad at Courf.  
“So we won’t be having wine with our dinner, then?” Grantaire asked hesitantly.  
“I’m not averse to alcohol in moderate qualities, why don’t we get some good wine and then try it tonight? Have you ever had wine?” Enjolras enquired encouragingly.  
“No, anyone who was less than sober was whipped raw. They already hated me for being friendly with ‘Ponine, they would probably have had my tongue out.”   
Grantaire shuddered at the memories, but then focused on his new life to come.  
“Listen, about Éponine… I really didn’t mean for… things to happen between us. It just sort of did. And as we don’t have experience with relationships, it’s unfamiliar territory for both of us. I promise I will do right by Éponine: not hurt her and not begrudge her a normal life. If she wants to leave when she has the chance, I will help her with all I can. But, I can’t leave with her. Patria has been my mistress for almost a decade; my work in our beautiful country isn’t nearly done. If Éponine chooses to stay with me, I will not treat her as anything but my equal. I will fight to the death to change laws about slavery and as of today, making slave-status reversible is one of my main focuses.” Enjolras sighed.   
“God, it feels good to get that off my chest. Do you hate me?” he asked, casting Grantaire a nervous look.  
“Why would I hate you?” Grantaire burst out. “You have given me and my best friend a way out of slavery! And I can’t hate you for loving Éponine and having sex with her, because, from what I’ve learned from watching the bourgeoisie, that’s what people do when they’re in love. Incidentally, it’s the same thing they do when they’re angry or horny, but at least she seemed to enjoy it. She even seemed to like the fact that you hit her,” he looked at Enjolras, “which I totally agree with, she can’t just slap people.”  
Enjolras was blushing profusely.  
“Two technical points: we haven’t had sex yet, because I want to give her time. Secondly, I wasn’t trying to punish her for slapping me…” he took a deep breath, “a little soft spanking just gets me going. I really didn’t mean to hurt her. And I’m glad she enjoyed it.”  
“She mentioned it didn’t hurt. And as long as you aren’t hurting her and you’re making her feel good, I can’t see anything wrong with your relationship.”  
Enjolras got a warm feeling in his chest at the mention of their ‘relationship’.  
“So while we’re having an extremely awkward chat: are you into women or men? Both are fine, even at the same time, or so Courf tells me,” Enjolras asked, too afraid to ask him if he has ever liked Éponine.  
Grantaire was silent for a few moments.  
“Truthfully, I’m not sure. I associate sexual contact with the horrors Éponine told me about. And what I saw the whip-carriers do to some of the younger boys in the orchards.”  
Grantaire looked at his folded hands in his lap.  
“Yesterday Éponine asked me if I had ever come and I haven’t. I didn’t even think ladies could. Is that abnormal?” His voice was full of concern.  
“No, there’s just a gap in your sexual education as a result of your circumstances. I think you should take the time while you’re here to discover what you like… okay, this is too awkward.” Enjolras laughed out loud and Grantaire joined him, first faintly and then with more gusto.  
Enjolras pulled into a parking space in front of the local shopping centre. There were relatively little cars, because it was a Sunday morning.  
“This is how it’s going to go: we are going to buy food for the week and at least three outfits for you and Éponine. Don’t worry about money, tight-assed Enjolras budgets. That’s why I don’t just buy all the slaves on the market, aside from the fact that I would be arrested for human trafficking when they realise I shipped you all off to Germany. To make a slave free takes more money than the initial price. You have to have clothes and skills and money to get you started. I’m going to have to ask you to stay close, we don’t want any trouble. I have your papers here, but I don’t want to take any chances.”  
Enjolras and Grantaire climbed out of the car and set off to the shops.  
Grantaire had never been in a shopping centre and he felt a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. Enjolras gently guided him into a men’s clothing store.   
“We’re in June now, so don’t worry about winter clothes, you’ll be settled in Germany by the time you need them. I do suggest you get things that are slightly too big now, because I will not rest until you have gained some weight,” he whispered in Grantaire’s ear, sending a man off muttering about ‘queers’.  
Grantaire was hesitant at first, but after some subtle hints at trends, Grantaire had picked out (mostly by himself) three T-shirts, a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans and tracksuit pants for lazing around. They bought him some boxers and socks and a pair of flip-flops as well as sneakers.  
Grantaire felt ridiculously guilty at first, but Enjolras made him feel so at ease with his effortless chatter, he relaxed.  
Then Enjolras took him to a woman’s clothing shop. It was massive. Grantaire had never seen so many clothes all packed together.  
“I’m hoping you know what she likes,” Enjolras said, looking intimidated by the aisles of all sorts of clothing imaginable.  
“I’ve only ever seen her in the white dresses the old master made her wear,” he said.  
Enjolras tapped a young girl stacking jeans on the shoulder.  
“Hello, I’m looking for some clothes for my girlfriend. She has had a long stint in the hospital and had lost quite a bit of weight. She is still pretty immobile, so… here I am,” he grimaced at the blond.  
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, sir! What sort of thing are you looking for?” she asked.  
“Just something nice and comfortable,” he smiled gratefully.  
With the help of the store clerk they had soon assembled quite an amount of clothing. Enjolras took pictures and sent them to ‘Ferre to show to Éponine.  
“Would you maybe be able to help me determine a size for underwear?” Enjolras asked, blushing.  
“Could you ask your girlfriend to send me her measurements?” the girl asked.  
“What measurements?” Enjolras’ face was the colour of a beetroot.  
“Tell her to measure under her bust line and then directly over her chest,” the girl smiled at him.  
“Okay…” Enjolras smiled awkwardly at her and then texted ‘Ferre to take Éponine’s measurements.  
Be glad I’m a dr nd can manage a professional distance, u jst askd me to feel up ur gf.  
Enjolras felt slightly nauseous at the idea, but just asked him to give Éponine’s feedback on the clothes and her measurements.  
Enjolras’ phone beeped and he addressed the store clerk.  
“She’s about 70cm under the bust and 75cm directly over.”  
“Wow, she is quite small. Is she short?” the girl asked.  
“Yeah, she doesn’t even reach my shoulders,” Enjolras chuckled, feeling like a normal boyfriend.  
“She’ll be about a 32B bra size and if she is that small I would look for an extra-small or small panty. Do you want help picking that out or are you fine?” Another warm smile.  
“I think I’m fine… Well, probably not, would you mind helping?” Enjolras ran a hand through his curls for the fifth time since entering this shop.  
“It’s my job, Monsieur,” she said brightly.  
“Grantaire, would you please keep an eye on these clothes? We’ll just be a few steps away by the underwear,” Enjolras asked, not wanting to leave the pile of clothes unattended.  
“Yes, Master.”  
Enjolras wanted to correct him, but then realised they were in public. He shot Grantaire a grateful look and then followed the girl into the aisles of underwear.  
“So I assume you want something for every day and then you want something for sexy times?” the girl asked, touching a few lacy creations in passing.  
“Uhm,” Enjolras swallowed, “I suppose so.”  
“You said she has an olive skin tone? Then most colours would suit her. Do you think she will regain some of her weight? Because then I wouldn’t recommend investing in something expensive now. Would she like this?” She held out a navy lace bra to Enjolras.  
“I would like her to put on some weight,” Enjolras stalled. He could imagine the dark blue on Éponine and it almost made his mouth water.  
“I like it,” he said, for lack of ideas on Éponine’s opinion on navy lace.  
“This isn’t too expensive and it comes with a matching panty. I think it’s a keep?” she asked.  
“Yeah, okay.”   
Enjolras had lost all of his usual eloquence; he was utterly consumed by thought of Éponine in these scraps of material.  
The found a beige and black cotton bra (since the clerk insisted every girl needs beige underwear) with matching panties.  
Enjolras checked his phone and saw the list of things Éponine liked. He showed them to the clerk and she helped him buy them. Enjolras and Grantaire left the shop with a considerably enlarged amount of purchases.  
“So, I want us to go get some food. We definitely need eggs and some form of meat, I don’t want you to get all anaemic on me,” Enjolras said and headed in the direction of a food shop.  
“I usually like to support the local community markets, but while we’re here we might as well just get the shopping over and done with.”  
Enjolras tried to explain to Grantaire every food related decision he made, to show him what good choices to make when shopping are.  
“Check the best before dates, you don’t want to buy off produce,” he said, putting milk in their trolley.   
“I’m thinking of making coq au vin tonight and then we can try the wine with it.”   
Grantaire just nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed.  
The woman at the till smiled at Enjolras and Grantaire.  
“Are you planning a romantic night in?” she asked.  
Then she saw the tell-tale s-shaped scar on Grantaire’s neck where his micro-chip had been implanted, showing the world he was a slave.  
“My apologies, monsieur.”  
Enjolras thanked her stiffly for his change.  
They walked out of the shop with more food than Grantaire thought he had consumed in his lifetime.  
“I haven’t bought some necessities in a while… like potatoes. Potatoes are always good, very filling and nutritious,” Enjolras said as they piled the groceries into the car boot.  
Grantaire climbed into the seat next to him and immediately started thanking Enjolras.  
“Don’t worry about it. The money I spent on you is not even close to the toll slavery has taken on your life. I don’t want to offend you by asking, but can you read? Did you ever attend school?”  
“I was born to slave parents. The children’s governess took care of me. I was taken away to Old Master when I was five. I was chipped then.” He touched the scar softly.  
“I managed to stay out of the way mostly. They had me work in the orchards immediately. Éponine taught me my letters and I can read easy things, but I can’t read a book. Éponine can, though, she’s smart,” he said despondently.  
“You just need a bit of practise,” Enjolras tried to encourage him.  
“Yeah…” Grantaire didn’t sound very sure.  
Enjolras filled the drive home with general advice on surviving alone in the big bad world. Grantaire’s mood was suitably lifted by the time they carried the shopping bags into the house.   
Enjolras headed up to his room where Courf, ‘Ferre and Éponine were.  
“Hey, I have some clothes!” he held up the bags for her to see.  
“Courf and I will go pack out the groceries,” ‘Ferre said politely and dragged the sobering up man out the door.  
“Do you want to see your new wardrobe?”   
Éponine looked like a particularly excitable child who was being offered sweets.  
“Yes!”  
Enjolras started by pulling out a plain green tank top.   
“Green to compliment your pretty hair.”  
He pulled dark blue jean short out.  
“Because you forget to close your legs.”  
Éponine threw a pillow at him.  
“It’s true!”   
Éponine blushed, but didn’t argue.  
Enjolras pulled out black leggings.   
“To wear under my oversized T-shirts.”  
Éponine smiled at the assurance that she would still be able to wear his clothes.  
He pulled out a light pink diaphanous top and a white strappy top.  
“Wear these together, otherwise you might look slutty, the store clerk tell me.”  
“I got you some brown sandals that I hope fit because I had to guess your shoe size,” Enjolras grimaced and threw the shoes to her.  
“Ooh, they’re pretty!”  
“I bought you some underwear with a clerk’s help… I hope it fits and you like it…” Enjolras couldn’t look Éponine in the eyes when he deposited the bag of underwear into her lap.  
Éponine immediately felt the lace between her fingers.  
“This is so soft,” she murmured. “May I try it on?”  
Enjolras just nodded.  
She pulled his T-shirt over her head and slid the lace bra on. She wiggled into the panty, trying to put the least amount of pressure on her knees.  
“How do you like me, Ange?” she asked, beaming.  
Enjolras was speechless. Éponine’s smallish breasts looked bigger and rounder in the bra. He didn’t think there was anything better than her bare breasts, but the navy made her look sophisticated and elegant.  
“I love it so much, I sort of just want to take it off,” he admitted.  
Éponine smiled seductively at him.   
“I want to put on some of my new clothes,” she said, sounding like a girl who wanted to play dress-up.  
“Wait, I still have one more thing,” Enjolras said, reaching into the bag. He pulled out a short dress. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline. The top was black lace, but from the waist down the tight black skirt was covered with a flowing material that started pitch black and faded to a light grey at the bottom.  
“It’s beautiful,” Éponine whispered.  
Enjolras also pulled a pair of black high heeled pumps from the bag.  
“The clerk said you should have something nice to wear if you want to go out.”  
Éponine looked at her blond angel with tears in her eyes.  
“I can’t believe you bought all of this for me,” she said.  
“I would do anything for you, mon cher. And I can’t let you walk around in my clothes for the rest of your life,” he grinned and moved over to hug her to his chest. Éponine wanted more: she pulled his face down to kiss her. He kissed her back slowly, but then withdrew.  
“If your knees are feeling better I would like you to go put your clothes in your cupboard. I have a few things to discuss with my friends, but come get me at lunch time, I’ll make us some salad,” he said with a smile.  
“Yes, Ange,” she said and serenely stared at her new clothes.  
Enjolras walked down the staircase to the kitchen, contemplating the Éponine situation.

Courf and ‘Ferre were having a hushed conversation that stopped when Enjolras entered the kitchen.  
“Grantaire is in his room, he’ll probably go chill with Éponine when he’s packed his new things away,” ‘Ferre said.  
“And we filled your fridge with food!” Courf said brightly, clearly sobered up.  
“Can we move what is sure to be a thrilling conversation to my study?” Enjolras asked.  
The three men settled themselves on the couches surrounding the unlit fireplace.  
“Enj, you know we love you,” Courf started, “but what are you doing with Éponine?”  
Enjolras wanted to say that he didn’t even know, but then he remembered that he was to man who always had something to say.  
“Éponine purposefully provoked me into a sexual situation yesterday evening. We have not had intercourse, but have pleasured each other. I have never felt like this before, I have never had a girlfriend before. She has been a sex-slave for about three years. I can promise you I didn’t do anything she didn’t want very much. Don’t look at me like that, ‘Ferre. I was really conflicted the whole time, but if there is a girl who is actually wet trying to get your cock in your mouth, you wouldn’t fight it for very long, either.”  
“I’m just afraid that she thinks she owes you this, or that she has some sort of twisted saviour image of you in her mind. She isn’t terribly stable, if her behaviour of earlier is anything to go on,” ‘Ferre said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
Courf interrupted excitedly.  
“But Marble Man hasn’t told you the best part! He has some sort of twisted fetish that he is so ashamed of that it kept him off woman for a decade!”   
Enjolras shot his friend a death glare.  
“Did you inflict some sort of creepy sex… thing… on a slave?” ‘Ferre asked incredulously.  
“She slapped me!” Enjolras squeaked, defensive because of his shame.  
“Did you slap her back?” Courf asked, eager to get to the bottom of the story.  
“You didn’t!” ‘Ferre hissed.  
“Well…” Enjolras wanted to jump into the fireplace and simply burn away.  
“It wasn’t slapping, like in the face… she just wouldn’t stop so I pulled her… over my lap…”   
His friends were staring open-mouthedly at him.  
“I just softly spanked her. She even told Grantaire it didn’t hurt! It really wasn’t that bad,” he looked down at his hands clasped in his lap.  
His two friends responded with equal vehemence at the same time.  
“Your deep dark secret is you like a bit of spanking?!”  
“You hit that girl?!”  
“Her ass wasn’t even red!” he didn’t even know why he was bothering to defend his actions, it was pretty clear his friends saw the monster he was.  
“You could see her ass?” ‘Ferre sounded as if he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the situation.  
“She was naked.”   
“Jesus, man, how old is that girl?”  
Girl.  
“Seventeen,” he whispered.  
Courf pulled a face and ‘Ferre’s eyes almost bugged out of his head.  
“According to the law there is nothing wrong with our relationship. I could rape her every night and it would be right in the eyes of the law,” Enjolras attempted to direct the conversation back to something he knew: the cause. But he could not stop his hands from trembling.  
“Well, I am personally for this relationship,” Courf said, reclining in his seat.  
‘Ferre stared at him as if to say ‘traitor’.  
“I think this is a consensual relationship between a man and an almost-woman, that only leads to pleasurable occurrences and personal growth,” he said, as if presenting the most logical argument.  
Enjolras still hadn’t looked up.  
“There is nothing wrong with some love-taps, Fearless Leader,” Courf insisted.  
“Maybe not with the trust-fund sluts you hang around with, but it could seriously derail a young slave’s recovery,” ‘Ferre interjected. “This girl might think that she still deserves to be punished, like she has been taught. This is such a big part of what were fighting for: the total dehumanisation of slaves! They are taught that they only deserve pain and suffering because they are bad people!”  
“The way Éponine chatted freely to us indicates that she is recovering fine,” Courf insisted. “She called us on our names and everything.”  
“I still think this is a horrendous idea to be involved with a girl you plan to ship off to Germany,” ‘Ferre said and crossed his arms.  
“I was planning to ask her if she doesn’t want to stay with me,” Enjolras said softly.  
“What would she do here? Be your sex slave? You are being just as bad the rest of them, Enjolras,” ‘Ferre yelled, fists balled at his hips.  
Enjolras was tempted to agree and suggest his resignation from the spot of leader of the ABC. Then he remembered how Éponine responded to his touches. The way she arched into his hand was not that of a woman that didn’t want it. Even yesterday, over his lap, she squirmed, but made no attempt to get out of his palm’s reach. She didn’t really think she needed punishment; she wanted to repay him for her orgasm, but didn’t do so begrudgingly. She had never really had a slave mindset; she was more than capable of making a decision to continue to Germany or to stay with him. He wouldn’t force her either way, because that defeated the purpose of freeing her. If she thought she loved him and wanted to start a relationship within the confines of his estate, he would work twice as hard to abolish slavery and laws making slavery irreversible. When he felt he had formulated a logical opinion, he spoke.  
“I am not like them. I am giving Éponine a choice, which is the whole point of freeing slaves, no? She will not be a slave in this house, she is my equal.”  
“But you can’t take her out; many places won’t even let a slave in. Slaves aren’t allowed to walk the streets after sundown. She will be constantly reminded that she is not your equal in the eyes of the law,” ‘Ferre insisted.  
“We will work hard to make slavery reversible, or do you no longer believe in our cause?” Enjolras countered.  
“Do what you want, Enjolras, but if you cared for this girl, you would stop this shit,” ‘Ferre spat and stood up and left. Enjolras was unable to move. He could hear ‘Ferre’s tires squeaking as he made his angry exit from the estate.   
“Well, I think love can prevail, brother,” Courf said and swung an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders.  
“I agree that she is a big girl, she can decide what she wants to do. It isn’t as if she doesn’t know the conditions of staying here.”   
Enjolras rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and let out a heavy sigh.  
“So you don’t think I’m a repulsive monster for lusting after a teenager and wanting to hit her?”  
“All men want a teenager, and this teenager is old of soul,” Courf soothed. “As for the spanking – it really isn’t an odd thing to want. Even I have been on the giving and receiving end of some hanky spanky,” he said with an over exaggerated wink.  
“It just feels so wrong to want,” Enjolras moaned.  
He composed himself.  
“I need some help on something,” he said.  
“Anything for my favourite revolutionary leader.”   
“Explain to me how you orally pleasure a woman.”


	6. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine gets drunk and Grantaire is a good friend.

Éponine and Grantaire had spent the day in his room, practising some reading at Grantaire’s request. Éponine had rooted around Enjolras’ room until she found a book that wasn’t ultra-intellectual. Grantaire’s reading wasn’t atrocious, but could definitely use practise. At about seven they made their way downstairs.  
“Enjolras?” Éponine called and peered into his empty study.  
“Something smells like heaven on a plate,” Grantaire whispered to her.  
They found him in the kitchen, pulling out plates and cutlery.  
Enjolras almost dropped the plates when he saw Éponine: she was wearing the dress he bought her and her hair was brushed. She looked like a naughty angel in the short black dress.  
“You didn’t come fetch me for lunch,” he pouted, trying to hide his amazement.  
“Sorry, we were busy reading,” Éponine said and sashayed closer to the stove.  
Enjolras took a deep breath.  
“You look… breath-taking,” he said.  
“You don’t look too shabby yourself,” she said with an over-exaggerated wink. She slapped him on the ass and he was shocked at her bravado.   
“So what’s cooking, good-looking?” she asked, leaning over the other side of the counter so he could get a good look at her cleavage.   
“It’s coq au vin and some pommes Anna. I got us the same red wine to drink with the dish. Éponine, I’m afraid you can’t have any, you are a minor.”  
Éponine’s mouth hung open.  
“What?”  
Enjolras burst out laughing, her face was priceless.  
“I’m joking, but if you get drunk, I’m not holding your hair back while you vomit,” Enjolras said seriously as he took out the chicken from the oven.  
“Oh, who am I kidding, of course I will, but still… don’t. Drunkenness is bad.”  
Enjolras fixed Éponine with a stern look to counter her wide smile.  
“Help me get everything to the table.”

The three sat sated after their large meal. Grantaire had some minor problems with the cutlery, but otherwise it was a very pleasant evening spent chatting about shopping skills and A Vroom with a View, the book Éponine and Grantaire read. Éponine was on her second glass of wine, Grantaire still on his first. Enjolras had threatened to cut her off when she practically downed her first glass. Enjolras cheerfully cleared the table and disappeared into the kitchen.  
Éponine grabbed the wine bottle and began downing its contents.  
“What are you doing?” Grantaire hissed and tried to snatch the bottle away, but Éponine evaded him.  
“I am going to be like a regular teenager and get wasted,” she said to him and plonked the bottle down loudly, just as Enjolras re-entered the room.  
His face was stormy as he glared at her.  
“Grantaire, why don’t you go brush your teeth and such things and I’ll go have a talk with Éponine,” he said tersely.  
Grantaire nodded and left for his room.  
“Éponine, what did I tell you about getting drunk?” he asked.  
“It’s bad,” she smiled with Dutch courage.  
“Come with me,” he held out his hand.  
Éponine was unsteady as she stood up, even from one and a half glasses of wine. It was the first time she consumed alcohol.  
Enjolras practically had to drag her up the stairs and lightly pushed her toward his bed. He closed the door behind him.  
“Your actions have been extremely irresponsible and self-destructive. You flagrantly disobeyed me,” he said sternly.  
“I thought I was a free woman,” she said, starting to slur.  
“I thought we were starting some sort of relationship,” he countered.  
“Well, then I guess I should be punished,” she said coyly, making doe-eyes at him.  
“Trust me, your punishment will come when you’re vomiting and passing out.”  
“Don’t be like that Enjy,” she whined.  
“Now is not the time to whine, naughty one.”  
“You see, I’m naughty, you should spank me,” she exclaimed.  
“No. I am not going to punish you for making a bad decision,” he said, setting his mouth in a thin line.  
“Please, Ange,” she moaned, stretching the syllables.  
“We’ve had this discussion, you do not like it and even if you did, I’m not particularly inclined to give you what you like right now.”  
Éponine sighed in exasperation and stood up wonkily. She grabbed Enjolras by his shirtfront and threw him down on the bed. He looked shocked. Clumsily, she climbed on top of him.  
“I need you, Ange,” she slurred.  
“You,” he said, taking her hips and manoeuvring her off his lap, “need water.”   
She let out an exasperated moan and snuggled down on his duvet.  
“This is so fucking comfortable.”   
Enjolras suppressed the urge to scold her and rather went into the bathroom to fetch her a glass of water. When he returned to her she was pale and sweating lightly.  
“Éponine, sit up for me and drink some water,” he said as soothingly as he could.  
“I don’t feel good, Enjy,” she moaned.  
“I told you this was going to happen, let’s get you to the bathroom,” he said and made to help her up, but she twisted sideways and vomited over the side of the bed.  
Enjolras felt a burst of anger, but his insides turned to mush when he saw her crying.  
She whimpered his name.  
He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom.   
“You are going to just vomit this all out, okay, love?” he said, stroking her hair.  
She nodded.  
“I’m quickly going to clean that up, I’ll get Grantaire to sit with you,” he kissed the top of her head.  
He darted down the hall and knocked on Grantaire’s door.  
“Hey, Grantaire?”  
“Yeah?” He came out of the bathroom in his sweatpants.  
“Could you please just go monitor Éponine, she’s vomiting in my bathroom and crying and feeling like shit,” he pulled a face.  
“She was stupid enough to drink a bottle of wine, she should be punished,” Grantaire said irately.  
“Yes, well, her body is punishing her enough, so please just go hold her hair back and fill the role of best friend. We can scold her in the morning.”  
“You’re too kind to us, Enjolras,” Grantaire said shaking his head.  
“No, you are just not used to being around decent human beings.”   
Grantaire smiled and nodded to himself and walked out to go to Éponine. Enjolras trudged down the stairs and got out his cleaning materials from the cupboard and got to work cleaning the vomit from the wooden floor. Thankfully Éponine had just missed the plush carpet a meter away from the bed.  
He peered into the bathroom to see how Éponine was doing. He was touched by the sight.  
Grantaire held back Éponine’s long hair as she retched again and then pulled her to his chest with his left hand, while he handed her a hand towel with which to wipe her mouth with his right.  
“You just tell me when she’s done then I’ll put her to bed,” Enjolras said from the doorway.  
“I’m not going to vomit anymore,” Éponine groaned from over the toilet. “I’m fucking done.”  
“Good, let’s get you cleaned up then,” Enjolras said brightly.  
“I’m going to bed, thanks again for the food, Enjolras,” Grantaire said and left them.  
Enjolras helped Éponine to wash her face and brush her teeth. He carried her to the bed and gently took off her dress.  
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.  
“I know, love,” Enjolras murmured.  
He took a clean T-shirt from his chest of drawers and pulled it over her head.  
He quickly divested himself of his clothing and climbed into the bed wearing only his red boxers. He pulled her onto his chest. They lay like that for a few minutes. He thought she was asleep when she suddenly whispered his name.  
“Yes?” he whispered back.  
“What’s your name?”  
“Enjolras.”  
“Your first name.”  
Enjolras frowned. All his friends called him by his surname; in his work he was called Monsieur Enjolras. His was named after his father and he despised his father and his stupid Imperialist name.  
“Louis Eugene,” he breathed.   
“That doesn’t suit you at all,” she giggled into his chest.  
“I know, that’s why I don’t use it. It’s my father’s name.”  
She didn’t answer and then they slept.


	7. Meeting at the Musian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times and then serious meeting times

Éponine and Grantaire had been living with Enjolras for two weeks now. Éponine’s knees were healed and Grantaire was swiftly regaining his literacy. The relationship between Enjolras and Éponine was sweet, but as much as Éponine liked being pampered and loved, she was bored.  
She left Grantaire on his bed to read and she wandered down the stairs in search of her… boyfriend? Enjolras avoided the subject of their relationship status.   
She peered into the living room and kitchen. He wasn’t there, so he was probably in his study. He was very serious about his work, the stereotypical uptight lawyer. She opened the door of his study just enough to pop her head in.   
“Ange…” she said in her sweetest voice.  
He looked up from stacks of papers scattered all over his huge desk. He looked surprised that she would interrupt him in his private space. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair.  
“Is everything okay, lovely one?” he asked.  
She nodded and let herself in, closing the door behind her.  
“I’m just feeling a little neglected, that’s all,” she admitted.  
A deep frown marred Enjolras’ face.  
“How so?”  
She sauntered over to his chair and twirled her small fingers in his curly hair.  
“I just…” she blushed slightly, “we haven’t done anything interesting since the first time.”  
“What are you talking about?”   
She looked at him pointedly. He didn’t respond.  
“Don’t you want to… spank me or something?” she blurted.  
Enjolras’ jaw clenched and he looked down.   
“No,” was his curt reply.  
“Yes, you do, and I want it now, because you are being boring.”   
When he didn’t look up she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.  
“Like… old-man-boring.”  
His strong hand wrapped around her thin wrist and placed her arm by her side.  
“I have work to do, Éponine.”   
He hardly ever called her by her full name and she fought off the tendrils of shame creeping in her stomach that came with the idea of disappointing Enjolras.  
“But I want to play,” she pouted.  
“Not now,” he said sternly, already scanning the papers again.  
Éponine huffed and made to turn away, but then her reckless streak kicked in. Quicker than Enjolras could react, she swung her leg around him and sat on top of his work with her legs spread. She was wearing her jean shorts that were already becoming tighter as Enjolras tried to make her pick up weight.  
He fixed her with his sternest look.  
“I’m going to count to three and then you are going to apologise and stop being distracting.”   
His voice was stern, but his eyes were shining.  
Bingo, Éponine thought.  
She bit her lip as if in contemplation.  
“How about… no.” Her smirk was wicked.  
Enjolras’ lips formed a thin line as he gave her a warning look.  
“One…”  
“I’m not moving, Louis,” she said in a sing-song voice.  
Enjolras’ eyes darkened in annoyance with her using his first name.  
“How do you even remember that? And I told you I hate it,” he demanded.  
“I have to get your attention somehow, Louis,” she said innocently.  
Enjolras slammed his left palm down on his desk.  
“If you call me that one more time, you’ll get the attention of my ruler,” he threatened, momentarily forgetting his vow to himself to not ever spank her again.  
That statement assured Éponine that she was on the right track.  
“Somehow, Louis, I find that hard to believe.”   
“That’s it,” Enjolras muttered and he grabbed his wooden ruler from where it was half-concealed under papers. He grabbed Éponine’s upper arm and bent her over his desk, too irked to see her triumphant smile.  
He pulled back his arm and landed a loud smack to her jean-clad ass.  
Éponine made a little noise at the impact.  
Enjolras kept swinging the ruler, and Éponine didn’t feel more than a slight sting over the jeans, because even in anger Enjolras wouldn’t hit too hard.  
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m working,” he stressed every word with a smack and then he was done.  
Éponine shyly looked over her shoulder at his face. He was flushed and looked terribly confused. She turned around to face him and saw his straining erection. Her plan had worked. Now she just had to get to him before the apologising started.  
She kissed him lightly and he started to relax. Soon they were locked in a passionate embrace, her legs were around his hips as she was perched precariously at the edge of his desk. He pulled off her tank-top and her bra and started tweaking her nipples.  
“You little minx, you did this on purpose,” he accused, nipping at her neck.  
She shuddered and nodded.  
“You’re such a naughty little girl,” he growled into her ear and she moaned.  
Suddenly, he pulled her to stand and yanked off her shorts and underwear and replaced her on the desk. She grabbed his shoulders to keep from toppling backwards.  
“I’m going to punish you now,” he said with a wolfish grin and then his face was gone, between her legs and she felt his tongue…  
She squeaked at the feeling of his hot and searching tongue. His strong hands held her hips steady and it was a few minutes and Éponine was very close and she tugged on his hair and told him so and…  
She shrieked in frustration. Enjolras had stood up abruptly and was now standing a meter away grinning devilishly.   
He licked his glistening lips slowly and moaned.  
“You taste so good, ‘Ponine,” he said in a low voice.  
“Why did you stop?” she almost screamed. Her right leg was quivering and she felt the urge to throw something at the perfect blond face that put her in this state.  
“I’m punishing you.”   
Éponine burst into tears.  
“Oh fuck,” Enjolras said, obviously scared he had hurt her or made her feel bad.  
“Make me come, you fucking piece of shit!” Éponine demanded and slammed her fist on the desk.  
All worry faded from Enjolras’ face and he chuckled darkly.  
“Needy girl,” he muttered into her thigh and then he was driving her to the edge again. She writhed her hips against his mouth and suddenly she felt him slide a finger into her. She stiffened for a moment. For a split second she thought of her previous master. This was the first penetrative action Enjolras had ever done to her. He looked up at her, his face covered in her juices and his eyes wide with lust.   
“Eppie, what’s wrong?” he panted at her.  
She needed one look at his angelic face to make her forget about all the bad sexual experiences she had had and to take his blond curls in her hand and shove his face back where it was a moment ago.  
He returned to his job with renewed fervour and Éponine started pulling at his hair as she was about to come undone. He unexpectedly crooked his finger inside her and she came with a high cry. She fell back on his papers and stuck her arms out for Enjolras to pick her up and cradle her to his chest.  
When she felt no warm body against hers she opened her eyes. Enjolras was standing over her stroking himself.  
“What are you doing?” she asked in her post-orgasmic haze.  
“Jacking off to the sight of you,” he gasped, “and to the thought of what we did a short while back.”  
“Should I help?”   
“Get on your knees, if you can,” he gritted out.   
For the last two weeks he had forbidden Éponine to kneel and she gladly kneeled before him now and immediately sucked his head into her mouth. He gasped loudly and it was now his turn to grab her hair. She took his length down her throat and he started muttering about how beautiful his little girl was, even if she was so naughty. Éponine knew that he was close.  
He came down her throat with a moan and crumpled to the floor next to her. He pulled her into his arms on the carpet. She smiled contently: this was the cuddling she had been waiting for.  
He kissed her head.  
“My beautiful girl,” he murmured.  
She nuzzled her nose into his neck.  
They lay there in silence for a while and then Enjolras broke the silence.  
“So… was that weird?” he asked cautiously.  
“No, it was the best ever,” she mumbled into his hard chest. In these weeks she learned that he liked to go jogging very early in the morning and had a little routine of exercises he did before he went to bed to keep his body looking like the marble man he was known as.  
“Okay, then,” he agreed. “Do you and Grantaire want to come with me to the ABC meeting today?”  
She nodded. 

_____

The couple cleaned themselves up and Enjolras went back to work and Éponine made lunch for Grantaire and herself.   
“We’re going to an abolitionist meeting later,” she said with her mouth full of fresh baguette with tomato and herbs.  
Grantaire looked alarmed at the news but then just nodded.  
“It’ll be fun,” Éponine insisted.  
“If you say so, ‘Ponine.”  
They sat and joked around for a while, they were starting to get used to leisure time. Enjolras joined them later the afternoon, in the middle of a violent game of Uno.  
Éponine was extremely competitive and naturally loud, so after the first few rounds Enjolras gave up on working. He joined in the game and eventually won.  
“Enj…” Éponine whined when he held up his hands with no cards. “You cheated.”  
“I did not, you are just a sore loser,” he leaned over and tickled her in her side.  
She squealed and jumped onto Grantaire and half-stepped on his crotch and then he sent her flying and she rolled laughingly onto the carpet and then Enjolras was tickling her and she realised that every dream she was afraid to have in the past decade were coming true.  
She wrapped all four of her limbs around his body and wheezed at him to stop. He went still and then lifted her up to sit on his lap on the floor.  
“I’m going to squish you, Ange,” she giggled, “have you seen how much chubbier I’ve gotten lately?”   
She pinched her thigh.   
“You are on the right road to a normal weight, if I wanted to hold a little boy I would have said so,” he said, sputtering against her wild ponytail that she had swished into his mouth.  
“But what if I roll over at night and I squish you flat as a pancake?” she asked, wiggling her hips.  
“You can’t, you are just being silly. You are still tiny and slim and very beautiful.”   
He placed a kiss on her neck.  
Grantaire cleared his throat loudly and when the couple looked questioningly at him he just said, “Get a room, you guys.”   
Enjolras rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch.  
“Oh, it’s time to get going to the meeting, it starts at six. It’s at the Café Musain, hopefully we can weasel some food out of Musichetta, she works there.” 

The trio left the Enjolras estate a few minutes later. Café Musain wasn’t far, Enjolras always walked to the meetings. The heat of the summer’s day was tempering down. Enjolras laced his fingers through Éponine’s. From the corner of his eye he saw the small smile appear on her face. They reached the café within ten minutes and were welcomed by cheerful faces and shouted greetings.  
“Our fearless leader,” Courfeyrac said with a sweeping bow.  
Jehan pressed a bag full of fresh herbs and lemons into his hands.  
“And some flowers for mademoiselle,” he produced a bunch of pink wildflowers from behind his back and made Éponine giggle daintily as she accepted them.  
The group of friends chatted away for a while until the last non-Ami customers left. Musichetta closed the door behind them.  
“The floor is yours, Marble Man.”

Enjolras stood up with the grace of an ancient emperor. He walked to the front of the café and all eyes were on him.  
“Firstly, to those of you who haven’t met them, I want to introduce the two slaves currently living with me; Éponine and Grantaire,” he gestured in their direction.   
“Hi Éponine and Grantaire,” the Amis chorused and burst out giggling.  
Enjolras frowned.  
“Please refrain from making this sound like an AA meeting.”  
“We’ve stood around chatting to them for twenty minutes, we know who they are, Fearless Leader,” Feuilly called from where he was not-so-discreetly lighting a cigarette. Musichetta immediately pounced on him to put it out, but was much too short to reach the cigarette when the man raised his arm in the air.  
“Fine,” Musichetta and Enjolras grumbled simultaneously, which had everyone giggling again.  
“Mon amis… in all seriousness, the government is corrupt, we know this. But I do not know if you are aware that they have reached new lows in the past week.”  
Enjolras’ voice rang out in the now silent space. He was a born orator and it was evident to anyone who was around when he opened his mouth.  
“They have tried to keep it out of the public eye, which the Information Bill has allowed them to do for the past year, but it is now legal for a slave owner to take a slave to a state hospital and have them euthanized.”   
He paused to evaluate the different reactions.  
Musichetta cuddled closer to Bossuet. Grantaire and Éponine paled. Combeferre lifted his hand in the universal gesture for a chance to speak.  
“I was approached by a man at my practice for this reason. He came to me, complaining of chest pain and off-handily mentioned that he had heard from a friend that he could have a slave ‘put down’. I had heard rumours that this might be legalised. He kept on chatting about killing his one slave who wasn’t healing after a whipping like it was normal,” Combeferre spat.  
“Jesus Christ,” Jehan looked as if he was about to vomit.  
“They called us all in on Monday to brief us about this at the hospital,” Joly piped up.  
The whole room was abuzz with cries of outrage and disgust.  
“This is horrifying, inhumane! This is what we are fighting for, mon amis!” Enjolras roared from the front of the café.  
All eyes were locked on his Apollonian face.  
“The government thinks they can legalise heinous deeds and keep the bourgeoisie happy and so keep the rich rich and keep the poor as down-trodden as possible. In fact, if you are too poor there are now debt officials who come to your house, abduct you in front of your children and drag you away to the auction house! If you dare struggle too much they shoot you! In no civilised country is every member of the police service licenced to kill. And what can we, as the free-thinking middle class, do? Nothing! They try their hardest to muzzle us, because if the whole middle-class can put their weight behind something they don’t stand a chance! But we aren’t allowed to criticize the government, aren’t allowed to protest… I say enough is enough!”  
The energy was palpable in the room, everyone was electrified by their leader’s passion. They had all seen the individual effect of slavery on the slaves they bought and set free. They saw what years of abuse did to people. They had all had some close calls with the police while they were together in university, before the law became so unyielding.   
“We should march on the parliamentary building! Gather a crowd bigger than they’ve seen in the last decade! We have to show them that we know what they are doing and we are not going to stand for it!” He slammed his palm down on the counter.  
There was a moment of silence, no more than an inhalation: the Amis thought of their careers, their lives…  
“Fuck yes!” Éponine exclaimed, her small fist in the air.  
“We’re in,” Musichetta called, her arms possessively around Bossuet and Joly.  
Enjolras was practically glowing.  
“We will make them sit up and take notice! This is the moment we have worked for for six years!” he shouted.   
His eyes met Combeferre’s. They hadn’t spoken since ‘Ferre had drove off in a rage after learning about his relationship with Éponine. His eyes were full of a familiar fire. He nodded to Enjolras.  
Enjolras felt like he could breathe more freely. He was unconsciously worried that he had lost his best friend forever. The look the shared assured him that things were going to be okay.  
All the Amis were on their feet, loudly confirming they were going to be a part of this. Only Marius looked slightly out of sorts, but Enjolras only had eyes for Éponine.

Her face was tear-stained, but strong. She had her arms around Grantaire. Grantaire noticed Enjolras coming closer to them and shifted back. He walked over to Feuilly who was also artistic like Grantaire. They had spent the time before the meeting debating the merits of oil and watercolours. The Amis began pouring wine and devising plans to get as many people at this protest.

“Are you all right?” Enjolras asked Éponine. “I’m sorry if this was a bit much…”  
“Are we really going to do this?” she demanded.  
“Yes,” he answered. His whole life had been leading up to this one defining moment.  
“Vive de la Revolutione!” Éponine shouted and got herself a glass of wine before Enjolras could stop her. He had spoken to her seriously about the dangers of alcohol abuse, she was a big girl, she had to make her own decisions.  
“We need a sign!” Enjolras called and stood on a chair. “To rally the people, to call them to arms, to bring them in line!”  
All the Amis talked at once, bouncing ideas off the brick walls of the Musain.  
“Marius, what’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Courfeyrac mentioned loudly.  
“I am agog, I am aghast, is Marius scared?” Bahorel taunted dramatically, he must have had something to drink before they started.   
“You,” he gesticulated towards Enjolras, “talk of the protest demonstration of the decade and here he comes, wringing his hands like a worried schoolboy! Watching you is better than an opera!”  
“I’m sorry,” Marius said and fled the café.   
The door slammed shut behind him. It left the Amis spirits sufficiently dampened.  
Enjolras, as always, was the first to react.  
“It is time for us all to decide who we are. Do we fight for a night at the opera now? Have you ever thought to yourself about the price you might pay? Is this simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colours of the world are changing day by day!” He dove behind the counter and opened a cupboard and pulled out the flag of the French Democratic Party, a flag of red and black. The FDP was consistently beaten down by the government for their “liberal” views on slavery and ethics.  
With the grace of a cat he jumped onto the counter.  
“Red – the blood of angry men, black – the dark of ages past. Red – a world about to dawn, black – the night that ends at last!”   
The Amis were sobered by this, but also electrified.   
“Our little lives don’t count in the grand scheme of things, we strive towards a larger goal: an equal France!”  
They roared in agreement.  
Enjolras jumped off the counter. High on adrenaline, he grabbed Éponine by the waist and kissed her deeply.   
The Amis cheered loudly. Musichetta dragged her boys closer and Combeferre had to hide his smile behind his glass of wine.  
Feuilly checked his phone and then the called everyone’s attention.  
“Listen everybody! I just got a text that the president will be holding a parade to commemorate his wife’s fifth pregnancy on the fifth of June. They will be in a carriage, horses, everything, as is our Despotic Tyrant’s way!” he proclaimed.  
“This is the sign we need!” Enjolras yelled, clutching Éponine at his side. “There are thousands of women sterilised unwillingly every year, because those neo-Nazi pigs deem them unfit to be mothers. Now this woman, this glorified incubator, is being paraded around! On the fifth we will make our feelings know, with the light of rebellion ablaze in our eyes! With their lighted candles of luck we will kindle our flame.”  
He threw his fist in the air.  
“The time if here, let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer!”  
“Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts!” Bahorel shouted.  
“With a jubilant shout…” Musichetta started.  
“They will come one and all,” Bossuet boomed in his deep voice.  
Joly thrust his glass in the air, spilling wine on everyone near him. “They will come when we call!”

The central Amis sat down in a quiet corner of the café to plan. They had ten days to plan this flawlessly. Éponine joined Grantaire and they chatted to Musichetta and her boys. Jehan plonked himself down on Bossuet’s lap, winding the man. They laughed and drank and were merry. Éponine could get used to this.


	8. Revolutions and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enj is sleep-deprived and has a bit of dubious consent sexy-fun with Éponine, which becomes less sexy and fun... But then good feels make up for the angst :)

It was five days since the Amis had decided to protest. Enjolras had hardly slept. When Éponine and Grantaire asked if there was anything they could do to help, he mostly waved them away or told them to represent the slaves of France when they marched, which was a subtle way to tell them to go away.  
It was two o’clock in the morning when Éponine felt Enjolras stealthily slide into the bed beside her. She rolled to her side to face him. His forearm was slung over his eyes. His hair was uncombed and could use a wash. In the light of the moon she could see the stubble on his jaw. The first fortnight she and Grantaire had lived with the revolutionary, he had been immaculate in his appearance. Now, with the pressure of a revolution on his shoulders, he was beginning to physically show signs of stress.  
“Ange?” Éponine whispered.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered back, not removing his arm.  
Éponine snuggled closer to his body. She nuzzled her nose into his shoulder and poked a foot over his right leg, entangling them.  
He removed the arm and smiled wryly at her.  
“I’ve missed you, Ange.”   
His smile faded.  
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you, but I hope you understand that this revolution is what I have been working towards my whole life. I have been on a singular path since I was about sixteen… I need this to work, Éponine.”  
His voice broke and his eyes were squeezed shut like he was trying to stop himself from crying.   
“Ange, it will,” Éponine whispered soothingly and stroked his hair.  
There was a long period of silence in which she stroked his hair.  
“I’ve never been afraid of dying,” Enjolras suddenly said.  
He turned to his side so they were facing each other.  
“I have had good friends, Combeferre and I have known each other since we were four, but I’ve never felt about anyone, the way I feel about you.”  
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.  
“I have only just found you…” he whispered.  
There was a long pause again.  
“Do you think we might die?” Éponine whispered.  
Enjolras closed his eyes.  
“I don’t know.”  
In the moonlight his gaze was an intense grey boring into her sleepy brown eyes.  
“The police have clearance to shoot protesters. I’ve always thought to be a martyr for this cause, but now I feel torn between my life’s ambition and my heart’s desire.”   
Éponine pressed her body to Enjolras’.  
“If we die we die together,” she insisted, pressing her forehead to his.  
“No!” Enjolras pulled back and looked at her as if she was crazy.  
“You are still practically a child, you have a whole new life of freedom in front of you! You can live without me, find a job and a lover and be happy.”  
“I’m not that much younger than you and I’ve been through a hell of a lot more.”  
Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned to lie on his back.  
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” he said coldly.  
Éponine saw red.  
“No! You still think I don’t really love you! I want to fight this fight with you, Enjolras! I want to prevent other children from having the life I had, you should know that now. And,” she grabbed his hand to her chest, “that I love you.”  
“Éponine…” Enjolras gently pulled his hand away.  
“No! Stop this! I am not a fucking child!” she said in an increasingly hysterical whisper.   
“I am flesh and blood and so are you! Our lives can be used to bring change. Every single day a disaster can strike and kill me or you or anyone else. Everyone dies, Enjolras. C’est la vie, c’est la mort. It’s all the same, we’re all the same. In five days’ time I will march with you and I will sing that song Jehan is writing louder than anyone and if a policeman shoots me then I die!”  
Enjolras grabbed her face.  
“No.”  
He was angry, his lips drawn into a thin line.  
“While there is breath in my body no man will harm you again,” he growled.   
“Enjolras, you are only human,” she implored. “And I’m not so easily broken.”  
Enjolras obviously thought otherwise because he rolled his eyes, but then he pulled her body over his and kissed her deeply. Enjolras usually asked first or started off with a tentative press of his lips to hers, but now it was all teeth and tongue. It was downright possessive.  
She moaned in pleasure, because she has tried hard to convince Enjolras that it is okay to take initiative sexually.  
He rolled her onto her back without breaking contact. She could feel him harden against her thigh. He pressed his knee between her thighs, and she bucked her hips up under him.   
He pulled away to moan in her ear and nip at her throat. Without warning he bit down hard and sucked, clearly meaning to leave a mark. Éponine squealed at the pain, but she couldn’t deny it was hot.   
When he was done with her neck he started licking and nipping down her body. He muttered under his breath and roughly yanked his T-shirt off her body.  
Éponine was giddy with arousal at this new, rough Enjolras. He pulled her panty off her shapely legs and immediately started flicking her clit with his tongue. It was a bit too much to start with so she tried to squirm away, but he just grabbed her hips and savagely bit her hipbone. She shrieked but it was quickly cut off by his hand on her mouth. Then his face was over hers.  
“We don’t want to wake Grantaire… except if you don’t want to continue playing…?” he trailed off, his finger dipping dangerously low between her legs.  
“Don’t stop,” she moaned.  
He started slower this time.   
Éponine marvelled at the golden head between her legs and, not for the first time, thought about how this man was a walking paradox. He wants to free her, but wants to possess her as well. He was painfully proper, but had this hidden fire inside him.  
Then she stopped thinking so much and just enjoyed it. She came under his tongue, pulling fitfully at his hair, so hard at the end of her orgasm that he pulled back and yelped in pain.  
She lay moaning and disorientated as he rolled her over onto her stomach.  
He slapped his hand down hard on her naked ass. She squeaked at the impact.  
“You’re such a naughty girl, telling me not to care about your safety. I have to teach you that I love you and would do anything to keep you safe.”   
His voice was low with lust and lack of sleep.  
He smacked her again, much harder than he usually would.  
She wiggled and tried to block the slap with her hand, but he just grabbed her wrist and held her hand behind her back.   
“No, tonight I am going to punish you, little one,” he growled in her ear and smacked her over and over again.  
Éponine squirmed under his harsh blows and suddenly felt the urge to burst into tears. She had kicked the habit of crying during a punishment when she was barely a meter tall. Now, the thought that Enjolras was trying to hurt her made her feel so scared.   
She let out a strangled sob and pushed her face into the pillow.

Enjolras heard her.

He froze instantly, his hand still poised to smack her red ass. There was already a slight darkness which would form a bruise in the shape of his fingers. Enjolras looked at his hand as if it wasn’t attached to his body. Then Éponine turned her head around to look at him.  
There were tears in her eyes and her lip was quivering slightly.  
He let go of her wrists like he had been scalded.  
“Oh my God,” he whispered.  
She turned onto her back without wincing and stuck her arms out for him to hold her.  
He had never in his life felt as disgusted with anyone as he felt with himself in that moment. He suddenly remembered why he had led a celibate life up until this point. He had finally hurt someone.

“Jesus Christ!” he screamed loud enough to wake the people on the neighbouring estates.  
Éponine recoiled and her tears started falling.  
Enjolras clawed at his face, muttering profanities and then just started moaning.  
He hadn’t slept more than ten hours collectively in the last five days, he was just so tired. His lust had gotten the best of him.  
He was a monster.   
He had to fix this.  
As quick as a flash he was crouching by her side, his face just as wet with tears as hers.  
“I am so sorry, Éponine, I didn’t mean for this to happen… I never wanted… Oh God… Eppie, I wish I could undo it, I don’t want to hurt you…”  
The words tumbled out of his mouth and he looked so confused. Éponine stuck out her arms again. He pulled her close and rocked her to his chest.  
“I won’t do that ever again, I’m sorry…” he kept chanting into her hair.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Grantaire.

“Come in,” Enjolras called.  
Grantaire opened the door slowly and awkwardly stepped inside the bedroom.  
“I heard screaming,” he said in way of explanation.  
It was a very awkward situation; Éponine was cradled naked in Enjolras’ arms and they were both crying.  
Enjolras took a breath to calm Grantaire, but he sort of choked and then just cried.  
“I’m a bad man, I’m so sorry, I’m a bad man, a monster, I have tried so hard to hide it, but I can’t, I should just kill myself before I hurt more innocent people…”   
Grantaire and Éponine shouted simultaneously.  
“No!”  
“Ange, you need to stop this now, I’m okay, please breathe,” Éponine said, in a voice that betrayed her state of anxiety.  
Grantaire kneeled by Enjolras’ side.  
“I am sure what you did wasn’t that bad, you have been so good to us,” he said.  
“No, I haven’t!” he shrieked, limbs flailing. He shot off the bed and cowered at the foot of it.   
“I hit her and if I hadn’t heard her crying I would have kept on hitting…” his voice broke and he gasped for air for a few seconds, groped for one of the bedposts and then keeled over, unconscious.   
“Ange!” Éponine leaned over the bed to see Enjolras, unwittingly sticking her ass in the air for Grantaire to see.  
“Well, I see what he means,” Grantaire whispered, gesturing to Éponine’s backside.  
“He’s single-handedly orchestrating a revolution, R! If it had gotten too bad I would have stopped him. Now help me make sure he’s okay,” she said, clambering down and peering into his pallid face.  
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Grantaire said softly.  
“What?”  
“You’ve been a slave a long time, ‘Ponine. You would have let him beat you,” Grantaire deadpanned.   
Éponine blinked a few times.   
“He pleasured me before he started hitting me,” she whispered.  
“Did you tell him it was okay for him to hit you? Were you a consenting party?” Grantaire demanded.

Éponine was terribly confused. When Enjolras had spanked her previously it was just love taps and afterwards he showered her in praise and pleasure. He held her tightly after every tryst they had. He kissed her forehead and called her his lovely little girl. She thought he loved her and she had been pretty sure she loved him, but she kept thinking about the fear that had gripped her when he held her down and hit her. If it had become too much for her to bear, would she have been able to get him to stop? Grantaire’s angry face was worried and she noticed a stray tear making its way down her cheek.  
She wiped it away.  
Enjolras loved her, but even marble can crack. The fact that he had stopped the moment he heard her cry of distress meant he cared. He bought her to free her. Before this whole mess he had been telling her how he was having second thoughts about his cause because of her. He loved her so much he just wanted to keep her safe, to be selfish and have her all to himself.   
But with the present laws they would never be able to be together, get married. 

They have to fight.

“No, I didn’t expressly consent this time,” Éponine admitted. “But over the past two weeks I have encouraged him to take what he pleases when it comes to me.”  
Grantaire’s eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of their sockets.  
“Why the fuck would you do that, ‘Ponine?” he yelled.  
“I am a free woman, exploring the dynamics of a relationship. This is a stressful time for Enjolras and he fucked up. Everyone is allowed to fuck up sometimes,” she said with her chin tilted up proudly.  
Grantaire didn’t understand the way they felt about each other, he didn’t understand what Enjolras’ praise and caresses meant to her, a teenaged whore.  
But she wasn’t a whore anymore. She was Enjolras’ girlfriend. And he was her boyfriend.   
“Did he try to rape you?” Grantaire gritted out, but Éponine could see he was backing down.  
“No,” she said firmly, “he would never do that. Anyway, he stopped as soon as he realised I wasn’t enjoying it.”  
Grantaire was calmer now.  
“How can you enjoy being hit?” he asked, almost curiously.  
“When he usually does it, he makes me feel special and it isn’t that hard. Now, please, R, help me with Enj.”  
Grantaire wrapped his arms around his best friend and hugged her to his chest.  
“I’ll always love you, ‘Ponine,” he mumbled into her hair.  
“And I will always love you, big R.”  
Éponine kneeled by Enjolras while Grantaire fetched a glass of water from the bathroom.  
She lightly tapped his face with her palm.  
“Ange.”  
His eyelids fluttered open. He sat bolt upright. He took one look at Éponine and then sprinted to the bathroom. She heard him retching. She heard him mutter an apology to Grantaire. She caught herself smiling like an idiot and she didn’t even know why.   
She pulled Enjolras’ T-shirt over her head and strolled over to the bathroom. Grantaire nodded his goodnight to the couple and gingerly stepped around Enjolras.  
Éponine kneeled next to a very green Enjolras.  
“Ange, I want you to stop freaking out for a little while, otherwise I will be forced to call ‘Ferre,” she threatened playfully.  
Instead of the wry smile she had expected he managed to become even paler.  
“He warned me that I would hurt you. He has always been the voice of reason when I was being a fucking idiot. Oh God, he was right all along…” he moaned and retched again.  
“Ange, no, you didn’t hurt me, we have just experienced our first relationship pothole. Jehan taught me all about them. He said it was to be expected in our taboo love which will inspire much epic poetry. Things like this make us stronger as a couple. Without making mistakes how are we supposed to learn about each other?” she said and smiled lovingly at him.  
“You called us a couple,” he breathed.  
“Yeah,” she blushed. “I’m sorry…”  
“No,” he cut her off. “I want us to be a couple. If I do manage to get out of this revolution I will make it my life’s mission to make you happy. I’ll make you my wife and I will adore you and spoil you like you deserve, because I fucking love you so much, Éponine.”   
He stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger.  
“Did you just propose to me?” she said, feeling slightly giddy.  
“God, sorry, my mental filter is just gone, I’m so tired, that was inappropriate…”  
“Because I will totally marry you, my revolutionary angel.”  
Éponine beamed at him.   
“God, woman, I love you,” he tilted his head up to kiss her.  
She lightly pushed him away.  
“Brush your teeth and then come back to our bed, silly man,” she chuckled and walked out of the bathroom.  
Our bed.  
He brushed his teeth twice and washed his face. He grinned from ear to ear in the mirror.  
I must have been a saint in my past life, he mused.  
When he slid into the bed Éponine snuggled her back into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.   
They fell asleep entangled and blissfully in love.


	9. The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the riot. Sexy times be here.

Marius was wringing his hands when Enjolras opened his front door.  
“Enjolras, I have a problem,” he said, his voice panicked.  
Enjolras felt dead on his feet. He, Éponine and Grantaire were sorting through firearms and ammunitions. After an emergency ABC meeting, Combeferre was outvoted to have a completely peaceful protest. A large part of the liberal community had expressed interest in this march and Enjolras wanted them to be fully prepared to fight fire with fire when the police came out guns blazing, like he knew they would. He still hadn’t slept properly, but he had at least washed his hair and shaved semi-recently.  
“Let’s go to my study.”  
The two men quickly slipped away. Enjolras clicked the door shut behind him.  
“You better make this good, Pontmercy.”  
The hand-wringing was back.  
“Cosette’s pregnant.”  
Enjolras’ first reaction was to tell him to fuck off and stop wasting his time. He suppressed the impulse.  
“Congratulations,” he said meekly, after deciding it would be the most appropriate response.  
“Enjolras,” Marius began in a pained voice. “I don’t know if I can fight tomorrow. I’m going to be a father.”   
His voice turned wistful and he smiled like an idiot.  
“What? Why? Are you about to throw away all we have worked toward?”   
Enjolras was instantly enraged. He was making no more of a sacrifice than any of the rest.  
“I can’t leave my child without a father,” he said seriously.  
“You think we’re on a death-mission?” Enjolras inquired viciously.  
“No! But, even you must realise that there is a realistic possibility of some of us… dying.”  
“If we die, we die as a symbol of our cause. Hector Peterson’s death was a major catalyst in the abolition of Apartheid in South Africa…”  
“Enjolras, please, for God’s sake, stop being a martyr for one second and think what it is like to love someone. To be so close to a perfect little family, only to risk it all.”  
Marius looked as if he was about to cry.  
“I know exactly how you feel, you naïve idiot!” Enjolras fumed. “I have just found Éponine and now I’m going off to fight a war. And the worst part is, she wants to fight by my side! At least if you die, you know Cosette and your child are safe. If I die, who will look after Éponine? She has turned my world upside down, but we’re fighting for a fairer world order. Do you want your child to be able to land herself in slavery because of bad debt? Because it’s just too easy.”  
Marius looked terribly conflicted. There was a long tense silence.  
“I do believe in this cause,” he conceded.  
“We have to fight because of the women we love,” Enjolras insisted vehemently.   
Marius seemed to look completely though him as he thought.  
“I’ll think about it, mon ami,” he said finally.  
Enjolras was too tired to fight.  
“I’m sure you will make the right decision.”  
Enjolras walked out of his study and joined Éponine and Grantaire again. He heard the door shut as Marius let himself out.  
“What was that about?” Éponine asked.  
“Cosette is pregnant and Marius is thinking of deserting,” Enjolras sighed.  
Éponine and Grantaire both stopped what they were doing.  
“What?” Éponine burst out.  
“Can we not talk about this right now?” Enjolras ran his hand through his messy curls for the umpteenth time that day.  
“Can I just stress that neither of you are obligated to be at tomorrow’s march?”   
He looked straight at Éponine.  
She glared back at him.  
“We’re going, Enjolras,” she said stiffly.  
“Well, in that case, let’s get back to work.”

 

All the Amis, bar Marius, had gone dancing and singing drunkenly in the Café Musain. Enjolras had tried in vain to make them stay sober, but in the end even he had a few drinks. Éponine was tipsy (he suspected Courfeyrac) and even convinced him to dance.   
The atmosphere had been cheery on the surface, but there was something in the air that betrayed the nervous energy in the room. They all knew the risks. Thus, massive party.  
Courfeyrac climbed onto the counter somewhere past midnight and proclaimed that he would marry Jehan if they both made it out alive. Then they moved their private party to the corner and the Amis just tried to turn their backs and not hear the small gasps and curses.   
Grantaire had made friends with Bahorel and Feuilly and they promised to bring him home at some time before the rally when Enjolras and Éponine left.  
The minute they left the café Éponine pressed Enjolras against a grimy wall and kissed him passionately.  
She kissed lower and moaned against his throat.  
“Your stubble is scratchy.”  
“Is that a bad thing?” Enjolras panted into her ear.  
“Nope.” She popped the p. “I just can’t decide if I like corrupting the impeccably groomed Enjolras or fucking the scruffy, tipsy Enjolras more.”  
The comment went straight to his cock.  
“Who said we were fucking?” he asked smugly.   
Éponine just grabbed the bulge in his pants, making him gasp, and then set off at a run towards the house.  
Enjolras chased after her. They reached the house giggly and slightly sweaty in the summer air. Their kisses were feverish as they shed their clothes on the way to the bedroom.  
Éponine was straddling Enjolras when she pulled away from his eager mouth.  
“I am fucking you tonight,” she declared.  
“What? No,” Enjolras made to kiss her again.  
“If you die tomorrow, you will bloody well not die a virgin,” she insisted.  
Enjolras pressed his face between Éponine’s breasts that had gotten slightly bigger since her arrival.   
“Please, ‘Ponine… not now,” he pleaded.  
She pushed away from him.  
“Then just fuck me.”  
Her hair was all over his pillows. Her legs were spread and he could see she was wet. He could also see she wasn’t sober. Then again, neither was he.  
“I’m sorry I’m not the virgin bride you dreamed of, but I’m all you’ve got tonight.”  
Her voice cut through his reverie. He looked to her in confusion. He reached out and pulled her into a fiery kiss.  
“You are all I could have ever wished for,” he said between kisses. “You are so fucking perfect… I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”  
Her chuckle reassured him that she wasn’t hurt by his hesitation.  
“Get on your back, virgin revolutionary,” she growled into his ear.  
When he ignored her, she flipped him with surprising strength.  
“Good Lord, woman, what’s gotten into you?” he laughed, steadying her with hands on her waist.  
“I have been waiting patiently for a month, I want your cock now, Enjolras.”  
Enjolras gritted his teeth at the words.  
“As you have mentioned, I am a virgin, I probably won’t last terribly long… and you will shorten my time considerably if you say things like that,” he grimaced.  
“You’re young, you can recover quickly. And you can get me off while we wait for Louis,” she grasped his member, “to get ready for round two… and three.”  
“Jesus, Eppie… I love you. You know this, right? No matter what?”  
In reply Éponine shifted herself so Enjolras’ head was inside her.  
They both hissed at the sensation.  
“You okay, virgin boy?”  
There was a small pause where it seemed Enjolras was at a loss for words.  
“Fuck me, baby.”  
Éponine sank down slowly. She was wet, but it still hurt slightly. Enjolras gripped her hips hard and gnawed his bottom lip. She slowly started rocking her hips like she had been taught.  
“Jesus… oh Christ! Eppie, I love you, I don’t want to lose you… Fuck!” Enjolras panted as he pulled her down closer to him.  
“I love you too,” Éponine whispered in his ear. The words and realisation that they were true sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. She sped up her movements, causing Enjolras to writhe even more under her. He looked thoroughly debauched, his face flushed, framed by a halo of blond curls.  
They continued for about a minute, panting and groping like teenagers when Enjolras started tapping furiously on her thigh.  
“Eppie, I’m… shit, baby… I’m…”  
Éponine pressed her nails into his sides.  
With a last yell Enjolras came inside Éponine.  
She rolled off him and snuggled into his chest.  
After a few minutes of quiet recovery Enjolras finally spoke.  
“Jesus, that was good.”  
Éponine giggled against his chest.  
“When is it my turn, though?”  
He chuckled and kissed her. His hand slipped between her legs, where she was still wet. It only took a few minutes.   
Round two and three were forgotten about as they slipped into sleep in a bit of a sticky mess.  
They held each other despite the summer warmth.

 

Somewhere in the small hours they were awoken by Grantaire going to bed. Éponine smiled at Enjolras.   
“Round two?”  
“God, yes.”

Grantaire had just settled into bed when he heard the tell-tale noises of love-making. It started with low moans and small grunts. He felt rather uncomfortable and tried to ignore it and just sleep.  
Éponine let out a particularly loud squeak, followed by stifled giggles and some shushing. Grantaire’s stomach fluttered.  
Their bed started creaking.  
Grantaire was now hard. And jealous.  
But not of Enjolras, but of Éponine.  
He pretended it was him Enjolras was fucking into the mattress.  
He came messily into his own hand for the first time in his life.  
He felt terribly guilty and filthy when he was done, but thankfully, sleep took him swiftly.

_________

“I’m coming!” Éponine screamed.  
“Éponine, calm down,” Enjolras hissed.  
It was time for the rally and Enjolras didn’t want Éponine coming.   
“I’m fucking coming with you!” she screamed even louder.  
Grantaire was standing very awkwardly on the porch watching the scene.  
“What if the police shoot?” Enjolras growled.  
“Give me a fucking gun, then! I know you have one for me!”   
She held out her hand.  
“No.”  
Instead of more screaming, which Enjolras had been expecting, Éponine’s face screwed up and she started crying.  
He immediately rushed to her side.  
“No, love, don’t cry…” he soothed.  
“I need to do this, Ange. I need…” she gestured aimlessly.  
Enjolras understood though.  
She needed to feel she was fighting against something. She needed to feel she had some impact on the world. He knew that feeling all too well.  
He took the extra handgun out of his satchel.  
“You remember how to use one?” All the Amis had undergone “training” from Bahorel.  
“Yes. Thank you.” She kissed him on his cheek.  
As the trio climbed into the car Éponine muttered, “Let’s get this revolution started.”


End file.
